Things in Common
by Colubrina
Summary: Ginny's resentment at her family's poverty explodes while shopping for school supplies. Under the cover of her mother's embarrassment, Lucius Malfoy slips a diary into her cauldron and suggests she'd be welcome in his home. Throw in a sorting into Slytherin and let the dark games begin. Slytherin!Ginny, Dark!Ginny, AU. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1 - The Diary

She hated Muggles.

 _Hated_ them.

She knew it wasn't right to hate anyone, much less a group of anyones, but a lifetime of poverty she blamed on her father's bizarre obsession with people so stunted they didn't even have magic built prejudice layer by slow layer.

Really, if she was being truly honest, what she hated was being poor. But poverty was abstract and hard to fight and Muggles were there with the stories her father brought home from work and the car in the garage and his endless fascination with their trivia. It was easier to hate purloined junk and the people who made it than her parents. Easier to blame strangers.

When her mum bought her Hogwarts supplies, third-hand books and used robes and fretting about whether Percy's cauldron was still any good or did they need another one, Ginny's anger at always having to make do with less boiled over. She could feel the contempt in the eyes of the other girls who were queued up at the shops. Worse than the contempt was the pity. One girl with glossy dark hair tossed that perfect hair and turned her back on the scruffy ginger family. The message was clear. You? You with the patched robes and the hoard of loud brothers? You're not good enough for me.

Fred made a rude face, and Ron scoffed with vulgar finger wagglings at the girl's back, but that made it worse. Fred had George, and Ron had Harry, and she had… nothing. She wanted new clothes and crisp books and to wipe that look of superiority off the girl's face and instead she had a mum in a hand-knit jumper that had seen better days who was counting out coins with a tight look on her face. Ginny knew that look. It was the look of put it back, and maybe we have one at home, and I suppose I can ask around. It was the look of not having enough.

Ginny stood in the aisle as her mother counted out those coins and narrowed her eyes and asked the unspeakable question. "Why can't dad just get a job in a better department?" she demanded. "Why not something else - anything else - instead of filthy _Muggles_?"

That horrified her mum. Molly Weasley clasped a hand over her youngest child's mouth right there in the shop and hissed, "Don't speak that way." Molly had been a Prewett once, though. She'd grown up with more. She'd had good robes for parties now and then, and a broom of her own, and she'd never looked nervously at the cupboard and wondered if maybe there wasn't going to be enough this month until she'd married for love and had babies for love and then still more babies. She still thought of herself as a pureblood witch, more powerful than most, fallen on hard times, maybe, but not poor.

Ginny knew they were poor. She knew they were lower class, and so did all those girls in the queue, their middle class accents notwithstanding.

Lucius Malfoy, who'd never been poor, stood behind them. He smiled with the sort of perfect teeth only luck or multiple visits to a specialized Healer could get a man and Ginny waited, hiding a cringe, for the contempt or, even worse, the condescending offer to help them out. Neither appeared. Instead he said, "Don't scold the child for asking what everyone wonders, Molly."

Draco Malfoy, standing at his father's side, blond and smug and arrogant, gave Ginny a grin that was half-mean, half-conspiratorial. "Maybe you'll get sorted into Slytherin," he said. She tried not to resent the crisp fabric of his robes or the shiny new cauldron she could see he was holding on to with pleasure. It wasn't his fault he was posh. At least he was talking to her. "Ravenclaw would be okay, I guess, but I'd die if it were Hufflepuff, wouldn't you?"

Molly Weasley scowled at the pair. "She'll get into Gryffindor like all her brothers before her," she said. "Like me and Arthur."

"Or you'll what?" Lucius Malfoy asked smoothly. "Burn her from the family tapestry?" He smiled down at Ginny again. "If she does that," he said. "Narcissa and I would be delighted to take you in."

Molly Weasley slapped her money down on the counter, a miserable pile of knuts and worn sickles, and the salesgirl began to count it out. Ginny missed the way Lucius mouthed, "I'll take care of it." She just saw the girl sweep the coins in the drawer and felt relief they wouldn't have to go through the embarrassment of putting things back.

"See you at Hogwarts," Draco said. Ginny tried to give him a little wave but her mother was already dragging her out of the store, purchases heaped in the dull cauldron she had decided was necessary after all.

"I have never been so humiliated," she said, hand clamped on Ginny's upper arm so hard it hurt. "And in front of the Malfoys too." She huffed out a tired sigh and turned her attention to dinner and laundry. "Just… go to your room and think about what you've said. You'll go to Hogwarts and get into Gryffindor and everything will be fine."

"Malfoy's a prat," Ron said. He'd stretched his feet out on the worn sofa and was thumbing through one of his new books. "Stay away from him."

"Listen to your brother," her mum said. "Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," Ginny said, wrenching her arm away.

Once in her room, sitting on her sagging bed with its patched and repatched quilt, she pulled the worn books out of her new cauldron with a sigh and began putting them into her school trunk, the one that had been Bill's. One book she didn't recognize: it was an expensive leather diary with a boy's name embossed on the front in gold lettering. A quick flip through the pages showed no one had ever written in it and, with a sullen look at her closed door, she decided _not_ to tell her mum they seemed to have ended up with an extra book by mistake. Instead she pulled out a quill, turned to the first page and began to write.

 _Dear Diary. My name is Ginny Weasley. I'm eleven years old and I'm about to start Hogwarts. I hate being poor. Hate it._ _I don't want to be in Gryffindor and I want to be rich and I want that horrible girl with the hair to wish she'd never turned her back on me._

The ink splattered when she jabbed her quill too hard at the final period but she looked at her first entry with pleasure. There. At last she'd said it. Seeing the words written down made her feel a kind of furious, spiteful pleasure.

Then the words swirled away and she stared at the blank page in shock until new words appeared.

 _Hullo Ginny. My name is Tom Riddle. It's nice to meet you. I think we might have a few things in common._

 _. . . . . . . . . ._

 ** _A/N - This is a rewrite and revision of a story I removed._**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Sorting

Tom proved to be an excellent listener, and not a bad giver of advice. Unlike Fred and George, who yanked on her hair and told her to get into Gryffindor 'or else', or Percy who stiffly told her not to make friends with the wrong sort, Tom was happy to debate the merits of each House for hours. He liked to slip just into the edge of her head so she could feel his emotions and responses as he wrote. It made things easier. It let them have tone. It made her nervous at first, but he never pushed, never pried, never did anything other than let her feel the words as he wrote them. _How would you know I wasn't lying if you didn't let me it?_ he'd asked. He explained how the whole thing worked, debunking the twins' claim she'd have to fight a dragon and the losers went to Slytherin.

 _You can ask for whatever you like_ , he wrote. _But you should ask for Slytherin._

Ginny felt a thrill at that, but also a twinge of fear. _Won't they be the worst?_ she asked. _I'm poor. None of them are poor._

 _You're a pureblood._ The letters were blockier than usual, and the ink spattered as it appeared on the page. She could feel he was hiding something, but it seemed rude to ask. It seemed too personal. _That's all they'll care about_. _If you weren't, you'd have to fight for it, but you'll be fine there_.

She didn't feel like being a pureblood meant that much. Who cared if you had no Muggles in your family tree when you also had no galleons in your vault? Tom was slippery in debate, though, and he'd agree with her that blood didn't matter but somehow it kept coming back to just that, or something like it. _It's always about who's the outsider_ , he said. _Don't let it be you._

 _Who decides who's the outsider?_ she asked at last in frustration. She was sure it was her. She was sure everything she wore, every bag she carried marked her as poor, and that would make her the one who didn't fit.

 _If we're smart about it, you do_ , he said.

Outsider or insider, she was eager to get away from the Burrow and into her own space. Every time her brothers teased her or her mother asked her for help with some chore or other, she hunched her shoulders her desire to be in any House but Gryffindor grew. She had to be away from all of these people. By the time September rolled around, she had turned into an arms-crossed, jaw-thrust-out ball of resentment. She was tried of being lied to about the dragon she'd have to fight to get Sorted and she was tired of being lectured on how she had to stay away from the Malfoys.

The only person who seemed to be willing to tell her the truth without scolding was Tom.

 _Slytherin_ , he wrote one last time before she packed the diary away in her worn bag and hitched it onto her shoulder. She'd gone to the train station every year she could remember but this was the first time she got to get on the train. This was the first time she had to find a compartment. The worn trunks itched at her, and she wanted to be away from them and as soon as she could she jerked herself away from family and belongings and began to look for a place to sit.

Most girls looked too posh and she tightened her jaw and tossed her hair and walked past their compartments until she found one with a tiny blonde girl sitting, feet folded under her, some kind of yarn pattern tied in a web between her fingers. "There's room," she said. "Unless you wanted someone more normal. Most people do."

Ginny wasn't sure there'd be many other choices so she sat down. "I'm Ginny," she said.

"Luna," The girl said. She held her hands toward Ginny. "I was reading about how to do runes with cat's cradle, but I think I've done it wrong. Nothing's happened."

"What was supposed to happen?" Ginny asked, and they spent the whole of the train ride going back and forth between the book Luna had and the yarn. Ginny considered asking Tom, but admitting she had a sentient book seemed like a bad idea so they just giggled and tried to figure it out themselves. Nothing continued to happen, at least with the runes, but by the time they were rowed across the moat they were arm in arm.

Luna was Sorted into Ravenclaw, which surprised Ginny not at all. The Sorting Hat, of course, wanted to put her into Gryffindor.

"Slytherin," she told it.

There was a hesitation. She was sure the wait felt longer inside her head than it seemed in the Hall. She doubted anyone was even paying attention. Another Weasley, sure to go to Gryffindor. They all did. She, however, wasn't _quite_ a Weasley anymore. Not entirely. She'd let Tom Riddle far enough inside her head that she knew that the feel of his soul lingered, pressed up against hers.

Still, she suspected if the Hat could see in her head, as it surely could, it could tell something wasn't quite right.

"Are you positive?" it asked her at last. "All your family went into Gryffindor."

"Slytherin," she told it again.

She could almost feel the Hat shrug and then it called out, "Slytherin," and the Hall, which had been politely quiet before, dropped into total silence.

She heard Fred say, "That can't be right," as a shocked Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat off her head. She got off the stool and walked with neat, controlled steps to the Slytherin table. She and Tom had had an argument about standing out. He was against it. Be quiet, he'd told her. Almost meek. No one suspects the soft-spoken ones.

 _I'm not meek_ , she'd written. _You're going to have to work with me the way I am._

Still, she took his advice and didn't saunter across the Hall or toss a smug look at her gaping brothers. She settled down on the bench with the other first year Slytherins and folded her hands in her lap and looked politely back at the stool where McGonagall was helping the next student up.

"Psst."

She had to be hissed at three times before she deigned to look over at Draco Malfoy, who jerked his head toward the seat next to him.

"Red," he whispered when she didn't move. "Get over here."

Tom had seemed to think this might happen. _They'll want to use you_ , he'd told her. _Let them think they are._

With that in mind she apologized to the girl next to her and moved to sit next to Draco Malfoy. "This is Crabbe, and that's Goyle," he said, pointing to two heavy-set boys with thick brows and dull expressions on their faces.

"Adopting firsties now, Draco?" a brown haired girl with a mean curl to her lip asked. "Ginger ones at that?"

"Shut your mouth, Parkinson," he said with a scowl. "I have my reasons."

The girl rolled her eyes but did as she was told and Ginny made a quick note about the power structure. Most of the second-year Slytherins looked to Draco for cues on how to react to her presence, and the first years were copying the older students. She smiled at a handsome dark skinned boy who wasn't following Draco Malfoy's lead. "I didn't catch your name," she said.

"That's because I didn't tell it to you, blood traitor," he said with a sneer that seemed almost automatic. She'd never seen cheekbones quite that high, and his face was so perfect even his curled lip looked gorgeous.

The girl Draco had called 'Parkinson' sniggered.

Ginny smiled at the boy whose smirk had gotten even bigger under Parkinson's approval. His face was pretty, sure enough, but that didn't mean she wouldn't smash it in with a swollen lip or bloody nose. Fred and George didn't play fair, and she'd learned to fight back young. She said, her voice as pleasant as she could make it, "Watch what you call me or I'll make sure you never need to mind your language again."

There was a gasp as several of the second years inhaled in unison at her threat. Draco laughed and grinned at her, clearly pleased she'd stood up for herself. She had a feeling in this House the weak were killed and eaten, even if only metaphorically.

"She's here, isn't she?" a lanky, pale-skinned boy with remarkable blue eyes said. "I doubt the Hat would have dumped her in our laps if she was anything like the rest of her family." He held his hand out to her, reaching past Draco Malfoy to do it. "Theo Nott. My father was a Death Eater."

She took it. "Ginny Weasley. My father's a Muggle-loving blood traitor but I'll try not to judge you based on yours if you'll do the same for me and mine." Theo laughed and kissed her fingertips as if they were adults. She laughed back as she snatched her hand away. She liked these games. These games she could play. This was much more fun than being told to watch her attitude like she was at home.

"I approve, Draco," this Theo said. "Where did you say you found her again?"

"I didn't," Draco said. He was inordinately pleased with himself. "But it was in the bookstore getting stuff for this dump. Weasleys are Sacred Twenty-Eight, whatever they say. Our Red's an actual aristocrat. Pure as they come."

"Poor as dirt, though, based on those robes," the dark-skinned boy said. "I didn't know you could patch patches."

"Shove it, Blaise," Theo said. "Better a poor pureblood than a rich Muggle like your current step-father."

"He's not a Muggle," Blaise said angrily and Ginny laughed and leaned forward on her elbows to smirk at the boy.

"Who's the blood traitor now?" she asked. "At least my parents only _like_ Muggles; they don't go around marrying them."

They were interrupted by the Headmaster nattering on about the school year and, though Draco muttered "pompous old fool" under his breath - a sentiment Ginny found herself agreeing with - they all pretended to listen.

She unpacked her things later that night in a room of girls already overawed by her older friends, if friends were what you could call them. Ginny hadn't thought through having to share a bedroom and she already could tell it would cause problems. Still, it was better than home. No one flirted with her at home. No one called her an aristocrat at home. Nightgown on, she sat on her bed, drew the curtains to give herself what passed for privacy, and pulled out her diary.

 _I think I'm going to like it here_.

 _You made it into Slytherin?_ Tom asked.

 _I did,_ she wrote back. _I did what you said and told the Hat what I wanted. And I've made friends with Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott._

 _Good,_ Tom said. _Good._


	3. Chapter 3 - The Weasleys React

Her brothers worked fast. Ginny had to give them that. They must have sent an owl home as soon as they left the Sorting Feast because she had a note at breakfast the next day. It wasn't, she was pleased to see, a Howler. Her mother kept a stack of Howler paper at the ready and wasn't shy about using it. Later Pansy Parkinson, who always seemed to have access to the best gossip, would tell her that Dumbledore had gotten one of the screaming letters ordering him to 'put that Hat back on Ginevra's head and put her in Gryffindor where she belongs.' The owl Ginny received, however, just told her not to worry and that her parents would make sure this was all straightened out.

She crumbled the note, tossed it under the table, and asked Draco Malfoy to please pass the marmalade.

"He's a greedy pig," Blaise Zabini told her when Draco just kept spooning more onto his plate. He handed her the jar himself then glanced down at the wand she'd set next to her plate. "Pretty," Blaise said. "What's the wood?"

Ginny looked at the spiraling black wand and smiled. She loved her wand. Ron had had to endure a hand-me-down but she, the only girl, had gotten to go and test wands until this one had roared to life in her hand. "Ebony," she said.

"Unicorn core?" he asked, his tone indicating he was sure of the answer.

Ginny kept her face completely neutral. "No," she said. "Phoenix."

"Nothing wrong with unicorn cores," Draco said with a scowl. "Don't be a git, Blaise."

Blaise snorted and leaned over to Ginny and said in a stage whisper, "He's just sore because that's what he's got and he knows its all fluffy and sweet. Poor little Draco didn't even get a dragon core."

She laughed and Draco turned red. She felt bad, and Tom would be annoyed if she lost this friend so quickly, so she leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I knew I wanted to be in Slytherin when you said I could."

"I didn't," he said but he looked pleased and smug and gave Blaise a smirk that made the other boy roll his eyes.

"You did," she corrected Draco. "In the shop."

He looked even more pleased at that and took a bite of toast and began to open his own letter from home. He didn't share what it was about but, then, neither had she. He just shoved his down into his bag and licked some of the orange spread off his fingers.

What she'd told him about wanting to be in Slytherin had been mostly true. Until Draco Malfoy had said maybe she'd get sorted into his House - into her House - she'd never thought about any options other than boring, boring Gryffindor. She was the seventh Weasley in this generation. Every one of her brothers, and her parents before her, and the dead uncles her mother still cried about, had all been in Gryffindor. She'd been trapped by inevitability until Draco had suggested Slytherin, until Tom Riddle had told her she could be in any House she pleased. Until Tom had said this one would be best for them both.

She looked down the table now at all the students with their green. If none of the first years had any kind of green accessories yet, they would soon. The next few days would likely bring owls bearing all sorts of little ways students could show off their House affiliation. With a sigh, Ginny looked down at her own plain, black robe. She didn't think her mother would be sending her green ties or pins or sashes any time soon. If she'd been in Gryffindor money would have been found, somehow, to get her at least one red and gold item, even if it were used. If no money were available, well, the attic was filled with hand-me-downs in Gryffindor colors. Now, well, she supposed she'd be the only girl in Slytherin without a House scarf. Patched robes, used books. At least her wand was new.

With that cheerful thought in mind, she scooped up her bag and, giving a nod to both Blaise and Draco, headed off to find her first classroom. Blaise followed almost immediately after, swinging his own leather bag from his arm.

"Ginny!" Ron caught up to her in the corridor. He, she noted, had a red and gold tie. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said.

"We'll get this fixed," he said. "Just... don't worry. Mum'll be up here this afternoon to talk to - "

"I don't want it 'fixed'," she said, watching Blaise Zabini stop to lean against the wall, not even pretending to be out of earshot. "I like Slytherin."

"Ginny," Ron started, then stopped and glared over at Blaise. She supposed he must know the other second year from classes and the like. His scowl said they weren't friends and that he wanted the other boy to disappear. Blaise just grinned back, all smug self-assurance. Ron's faltering concern seemed embarrassing next to Blaise's confidence and Ginny began to resent that he'd come up and fussed at her. She didn't need older brothers telling her what to do.

"The other students are really nice," she said, then cringed at herself. She sounded so dumb. 'Really nice.' Who said that? It wasn't even true. They were sleek and rich and intimidating, but they weren't _nice_. "I like them, anyway," she said, trying to sound as cool as Blaise looked.

Ron's mouth twisted. "You don't know what they're like, Gin," he said. "You can't trust them. You know what Dad says about the Malfoys and - "

She interrupted him. "I don't care what Dad says. He says a lot of stuff, but I don't have to be some stupid Muggle-lover just because Dad can't get enough of their garbage."

"Dad doesn't - "

"I need to get to class, Ron," she said. She wished he would just go away. "Go ahead and tell Mum and Dad I'm fine. I like Slytherin. I don't want to be in Gryffindor. It's not the end of the world."

Blaise peeled himself off the wall and, with far too much poise for a twelve-year-old boy, said, "I'll walk you. This castle can be confusing when you're new."

"Thanks," Ginny said as she shifted her bag from one shoulder to another. She needed to ask Tom about Blaise. He had thoughts on the Malfoys ( _Snobs but politically savvy and as rich as Croesus_.) and the Notts ( _Quiet and more dangerous than anyone suspects. Like I wish you'd be_.) He'd surely have opinions on this Blaise Zabini.

Well, opinions beyond how very, very appealing the boy was. Those cheekbones, Ginny thought as she smiled at her escort. Those eyes.

"Ginny," her brother said, "you don't belong there."

"Just because the rest of you are filthy blood traitors doesn't mean she wants to be," Blaise said. "Go away, Weasley, and play with Potter. Red here'll be just fine with me."

Ron's face got red and he turned his scowl on his sister. "If you let this tosser talk about your family that way, maybe you really do belong with the snakes."

Blaise put a look of false concern on his face and turned to Ginny. "Have I offended you?"

"You could stand to watch your language," she said. Ron's expression began to ease into one of gloating until she added. "Not that I disagree, but - ." She trailed off and controlled her own gloating as Ron began to puff up again.

Blaise smiled. "I spend too much time with Crabbe and that lot," he said. "Vulgar gits, all of them. Sorry about that."

She shrugged. "Walk me to class?" she said and the pair took off toward Transfiguration leaving Ron behind.

. . . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - Thank you to turbulenthandholding for alpha/beta reading the original version of this for me, and continuing to be a gift and joy! All the new typos are my fault._**


	4. Chapter 4 - The Malfoys Step In

When the Malfoy's overly large eagle owl swooped in one morning later in the week, Ginny didn't even turn her head. She'd already learned that Draco's mother sent him cakes every day, outrageously good cakes, and that he shared them round in the common room after lunch. Draco's sweet tooth was not small but, for all he was a brash, arrogant child who'd never been told no in any meaningful way, he also was clever and knew how to make friends.

It wasn't until the owl dropped a package in front of her that she reacted, and then her first thought was that the silly bird had given the delivery to the wrong person. She stared at the owl who sniffed with owlish disdain and flew off before she could so much as hand it a slice of bacon.

"Well," said Pansy impatiently, "aren't you going to open it?"

"I…." Ginny looked at the name on the package. In penmanship almost as good as Tom's it read, 'Ginevra Weasley'. She looked down the table at Draco and he shrugged with a smile that was a little too innocent. She resolved to deal with him later, undid the string, and pulled the paper back on the box. Inside was a green tie, a green pin, and a luxurious green and grey scarf. She ran her hand over the softest wool she'd ever felt and then picked up a note written on thick, linen paper.

 _Miss Weasley,_ it read. _It has come to my attention that your family has been less than supportive of your Sorting._

That, she thought, was a bit of an understatement. She didn't think there was a student at Hogwarts who wasn't aware her mother had come to visit and shrieked her outrage at Dumbledore while her father had stood behind his wife, twisting a cap in his hands. She didn't think anyone was unaware her most of her brothers had refused to speak to her since; it was possible some people didn't know how Ron and George and Fred let their eyes slide over her as if she weren't there when they passed in the hall but Ginny was pretty sure her new friends had noticed even if they hadn't said anything.

 _We simply cannot allow a young lady such as yourself to feel she hasn't been welcomed into Slytherin and, if your own family chooses not to lavish little gifts on you so you can make your membership in the best of Houses known, than Lucius and I shall do so. Sincerely, Narcissa Malfoy_

Ginny ran her hands over the knitting and wished she could bury her face in it. She'd never wanted it to get cold before but now she did. She wanted desperately to wear this beautiful, perfect thing.

"Still a bit warm for the scarf," Pansy said, sounding jealous.

"I'll have to go put it in my trunk after breakfast," Ginny agreed. "Won't need it for a few months."

She set the note back in the box, pulled the tie out and tried to remember how to knot it.

"Here," Theo Nott said, and, reaching over, he deftly made a neat work of it. "Girls never do it right." She glanced over at the Gryffindor table while Theo fixed her tie and made admiring noises, hoping to see one of her brothers looking back at her. They had to have noticed she'd gotten a package.

Percy wasn't there and Ron and the twins were all sitting with their backs to her. She doubted that was an accident. Tom had warned her it would be bad, but she hadn't quite believed him. She did now.

Fine, she thought. I'm an orphan, just like he is. She could almost taste the anger in her mouth like bile.

She turned her attention back to her own House and thanked Theo for his help, put the green pin on her robe herself, and ran her hand greedily over the soft wool of the scarf one more time before closing the box up. She had knits. She had knits galore. Her mother started the annual Christmas sweaters in August but her mother had never used wool that felt like this. Ginny was used to things that itched, things that were sturdy, things that were _practical_. This scarf probably required special spells to keep clean and that made a little thrill of pleasure run down Ginny's spine. This scarf was a luxury.

 _I've never had a scarf this nice,_ she wrote later, after she'd sat through her classes and eaten dinner and thanked Draco for being sweet.

"It's not right," he'd said, "you not getting things. Everyone else has stuff."

Draco, she'd realized, had no idea what poverty meant. He thought her parents were just being mean by not sending her something after the Sorting. He understood that he had more money than she did, that she had to have second hand books, but he didn't even begin to fathom that that meant her mum couldn't just buy her a bunch of Slytherin ties and hair ribbons and socks and send them off. She'd just hugged him and told him next time maybe he could ask her if it was okay before having _his_ mum send her stuff.

"You aren't mad, are you?" he'd asked, probably nervous he'd overstepped. Pansy, Daphne, even Tracey were known quantities to boys like him. But her? The little ginger he had to have been told to cultivate with the pathetic family she had to still care about, even if they were giving her the cold shoulder? She was a bit more of a mystery.

She wasn't mad.

 _I wish you could feel it, Tom. It's glorious,_ she wrote in the diary.

The words swirled away and Tom's looped writing came back in their place. _I'm glad you like it. You should have the best of everything._

 _We should have the best of everything_ , she corrected him.

 _We should_ , he agreed. _And we will. In time._

 _I feel guilty_ , she admitted. _My mum makes all those sweaters. Every year Dad says, 'She makes these with love, your mum does.' And she does. And I know that Draco's mum didn't sent that to me because she loves me, but I still like it more than anything my own mum ever made me._

 _No_ , Tom said. _She doesn't love you. She wants to use you. You're a political prize because you're the first member of your family sorted into Slytherin in a long time._

Ginny stared at the words. They hurt a little, but not as much as she would have expected them to. She wasn't naive enough to think a woman like Narcissa Malfoy cared about her. Even her own family didn't seem to care about her anymore. _I should be upset about that, shouldn't I?_

 _Let them adopt you_ , Tom suggested. _It will be useful to us later when you're older. Write a thank you note. Be gracious._

There was a long pause and then he added one more thing.

 _Your mum could have knit you a green scarf, Ginny. She chose not to._


	5. Chapter 5 - The Three Brothers

School, Ginny decided that fall, was mostly good. She learned charms and spells and memorized vocabulary and wrote far too many essays. She learned to pretend to care about her roommates though, in truth, she didn't like them at all.

 _They're so stupid,_ she complained to Tom. He was always sympathetic to complaints about the worthlessness of other people.

Better than all of that, she flirted with the second-year boys. She _learned_ to flirt with second year boys and learned she was good at it. She knew none of it meant anything, but it was just so much fun, and made her feel powerful to see these boys jockeying for the chance to flirt back.

Tom seemed mostly amused by her musings on whether she preferred Draco or Theo or Blaise. She dismissed Greg Goyle and Vincent Crabbe out of hand and he seemed amused by that too. She asked him once whether listening to her talk about things other than their plans bored him.

 _Tell me whatever you like_ , he said. _I'm here to listen._

So she flirted with Draco and let Blaise drape an arm around her and let Theo, his long legs stretched out before him, explain a Potions assignment, but it was Tom she trusted and Tom she really talked to. A lifetime of being the little sister made the gaggle of boys she'd accumulated feel natural and a lifetime of being the little sister had taught her not to trust them.

Her own brothers, certainly, hadn't stood by her. As fall slipped away and the days grew cold enough she could justify wearing the scarf Narcissa Malfoy had sent her, Ron had seen it and given her the nastiest look yet. "One of your boyfriends give you that?" he'd demanded, cornering her in the library, Harry Potter hovering uncomfortably behind him.

Draco had a _thing_ about Harry Potter and, like everyone in Slytherin, Ginny had learned not to bring the boy up. Potter'd gotten permission to play Quidditch a year early, Draco complained even as his father bought his way onto the Slytherin team with a gift of brooms so expensive Ginny couldn't believe it. Harry Potter got preferential treatment in classes, Draco complained even as it was common knowledge Professor Snape routinely docked Gryffindor points because Harry Potter had the nerve to exist. Ginny had mentioned _once_ that Harry Potter had visited her home over the summer and Draco hadn't stopped whinging for an hour. Blaise had leaned over and whispered, "We try not to get him started."

When Ron had confronted her about her scarf she'd smiled at him, then at Harry, and said as sweetly as she could. "Draco's mum gave it to me. Said it was a shame my own family hadn't gotten me a winter scarf." She'd looked meaningfully at the red and gold scarf around Ron's own neck and he'd had the grace to flush.

Harry had one too. Ginny had briefly wondered whether he'd ordered it or if her mother had made it. She'd gleaned his own relatives wouldn't have bothered. "How're things, Harry?" she asked. She'd had a crush on him over the summer. He was the hero who'd killed a monster and an older boy, but now she was used to boys just a little older and Harry was nobody but Draco's annoying obsession.

"Fine," Harry mumbled, embarrassed.

"We're still your family," Ron said. "Not them. You need to remember that."

Ginny wasn't so sure she was all that crazy about family anymore.

 _What was it like, being an orphan?_ she asked Tom later.

 _Lonely when I was little_ , he said, _but it made me strong. It was better after I came to Hogwarts and knew there was a whole world of real people._

 _Our world,_ she said.

 _It will be._

If Ron was bluster and accusations but, she thought, still clearly her brother, Fred and George were worse.

Fred slid into a seat next to her in the library one afternoon as she sat working on one of the endless essays, George following him on the other side, and she felt cornered and trapped by them. The pair of them were a double-edged knife and Ginny flicked a quick glance around the library but she was alone.

"Nope, little sis," said George.

"None of your widdle boyfriends are around," Fred added.

"Nice going, that."

"Getting them all to trail after you."

"But we waited until they were all gone to talk to you," George said.

She crossed her arms and looked from one brother to the other. Of all her siblings these were the meanest. Ron was all bluster and Percy all lectures and Bill nothing but hugs for the sister so much younger than himself, but George and Fred could be cruel. They'd liked to see how much teasing it took to make her cry when she was little, and she'd learned to never, ever seem bothered by what they did; it only goaded them to do more. Her mum had never been any help. "Work it out," had been her command as she'd shooed children outside.

"You can't be a snake," Fred said. "Not and be a Weasley too."

"Weasleys are always in Gryffindor. Even Percy."

"Prewetts too."

"You've had your fun, but it's time to go tell Dumbledore you want to be reSorted."

"Hermione looked it up," Fred said. "Ron asked her to. It's been done before."

"It's in the rules," George said.

"The rules?" she scoffed in disbelief. "Since when do you two care about rules?" She bent down and hooked her hand through the straps of her bag, slid her chair back, and stood up. "Try getting this through your thick skulls: I _like_ being in Slytherin. I _like_ being my own person. I'm not just some clone like the rest of you."

She looked from one of them to the other and added spitefully, "Not that you'd know anything about that."

 _Sometime I don't even think they like me_ , she wrote to Tom that night. _It's all about how Percy's a prefect and keeping Fred and George out of trouble and sweet, innocent Ron and wonderful, heroic Harry Potter._ She felt a bit like Draco as she whinged about Harry but Tom listened. _Harry Potter killed Voldemort. He's so great. We're all free and happy because of him._

 _This Harry Potter killed Lord Voldemort?_ he asked her. _You're sure?_

 _Well_ , she wrote _, he disappeared. Why would he do that if he weren't gone_?

 _Dead and gone are different,_ Tom said. _I wonder what really happened._

 _. . . . . . . . . ._

 ** _A/N - Thank you to Ibuzoo who beta read the first version of this for me. Also thank you to turbulenthandholding who holds my hand over the internet._**


	6. Chapter 6 - The Mirror

_Tom_ , Ginny wrote. _What did you look like?_

She'd begun to wonder. It was impossible to spend as much time flirting with her crew of silly boys and not start to think about the boy who was her closest confidant and best friend, the boy she knew had plans. She liked his plans; she looked forward to those plans coming to fruition. He talked about her as a powerful politician, respected and admired, not just another poor blood traitor. He painted a future with his words and she read the diary and smiled to herself. She'd be a great Lady. Everyone would love her, and also fear her, just a little. She knew her question was silly. It didn't matter what he looked like. He was her Tom. _Her_ Tom. And yet.

 _I'm sure there are photographs_ , Tom said.

There were. She'd spent days finding every reference to Tom Riddle the school archives had to offer. Brilliant. Head Boy. Orphan. He'd been everything he'd told her he was; he had, if anything, underplayed his accomplishments. Tom Riddle had, in life, been a prodigy. He'd been somewhat more than that, she suspected. References to him disappeared after graduation. No Tom Riddle showed up as a rising young star in the Ministry in old copies of the _The Daily Prophet_. Tom Riddle never came back to alumni events or appeared in the 'where are they now' columns in the school paper. He'd put a piece of himself in her diary, graduated, and disappeared.

She suspected the magic required to place a fragment of yourself into a diary wasn't something she should ask about in Charms.

She suspected the man who disappeared hadn't gone off to raise mandrakes in obscurity.

In all that research she'd found pictures of him, of course, but the school photography showed only groups of boys in academic robes. You could barely make out their features. All she'd been able to determine was that he had pale skin and dark hair.

 _Bad ones_ , Ginny complained now as she wrote in the diary. _Small and grainy and black and white. It's not the same as seeing someone. I want to see you._

The diary seemed to hesitate. _I can show you_ , he wrote at last. _But you have to let me out. I have to pull from you to have the strength to take corporeal form._

Ginny wasn't quite sure what he meant by that but she didn't care. Her hand didn't even shake as she wrote, _Do it. I want to see you._

 _Look in the mirror._

The words weren't written in the diary; she could hear them in her head as though someone stood next to her and whispered in her ear and the sound of his voice, a dark, warm voice that was laced with a joke he seemed to invite her to share, made her jerk. She left the book open on her bed where she'd been sitting, curtains pulled as always to give her privacy, and crossed to the small mirror that hung above her dresser. For once none of her chattering, annoying roommates were around and she could look at herself in peace.

She was there in her reflection as always. Pale skin, ginger hair, brown eyes. She was a solid and uninteresting child with a scratch on her nose and a smudge of dirt under one eye where she'd rubbed it earlier. She smiled a little at the green silk ribbon tied around her ponytail; Theodore Nott had put it there at breakfast before he'd yanked on her hair and made a joke about gingers and tempers.

Next to her, however, was an almost ghost. The pale boy was older than she was, and so perfect looking her throat caught. How could one person be so... symmetrical? Blaise was the most beautiful boy she'd ever met and even Draco was eye-catching but Tom didn't even seem real. A handsome face with high cheekbones and deep blue eyes smiled out at her from their reflection. That smile would have charmed biscuits from the hardest heart, would have coaxed any secret from her soul, would have led the gods themselves into perdition. He reached a translucent hand up to push a dark curl further back on his forehead and then touched her hair.

She couldn't feel the hand, and she turned to look next to her but there was no one there. She looked back at the mirror and he smiled at her again as he lifted one lock of her hair. _I get to see you, too, this way,_ the voice in her head whispered. _Oh, Ginevra, what a beauty you are going to be. You and I shall turn you into a knife upon which people will beg to cut themselves and then they'll thank you for the privilege._

"How old are you?" she asked, mesmerized and unable to take her eyes off him.

He shrugged. _I'm not sure. I was sixteen when I poured a bit of myself into the diary_ , the voice said. _That was decades ago but most of that time I spent in the... I was not aware. Since I was born? I could be your grandfather. Actual years I've experienced?_ He shrugged again and the motion looked as beautiful as the rest of him. _Maybe 17_? He ran that ghost hand over her hair again and she could almost feel it this time. _Too old for you, Ginevra, and, however beautiful you will be, you are not exactly my type. Stick to your little second years and I'll live vicariously through your romances as they happen_.

She nodded as she stared and stared at the boy in the mirror. The longer they stood there the more solid he seemed to become until she began to feel dizzy. Her knees buckled and the world became white and the floor was coming towards her. _Ginevra_ , she heard him say in a tone of shocked worry and then she fell into a dark pool of oil and she was falling falling, falling, and everything was silent.

. . . . . . . . . .

 ** _Beta Love: Ibuzoo and turbulenthandholding kept me sane about this one while simultaneously pushing me to improve my writing and I cannot thank them enough for that._**


	7. Chapter 7 - The Fourth Brother

Ginny opened her eyes to stare up at her roommates clustered around her making annoying noises, the prefect wringing her hands and Professor Snape glowering down at her. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain how your friends found you lying on the floor unconscious," he sneered, though his eyes had a slight hint of genuine concern lurking in the back. She supposed having the Weasley political show pony turn up sick or dead might not look good for the House.

"I was looking in the mirror," she began, "and everything just went white."

He eyed her then turned to the prefect. "Take her to the infirmary," he ordered. "Let Pomfrey dose her up with one of her foul concoctions and look her over." He glared down at Ginny, seemingly put out she'd had the nerve to faint on his watch, and swept from the room, leaving the gaggle of first years and the lone prefect in his wake.

"Can you stand?" the prefect asked her. The girl sounded like she was worried the answer would be no, probably less out of concern for the first year on the floor in front of her and more because she was impatient to get back to her own work and friends.

Ginny pushed herself up and waited for the room to spin or fade out but, other than that she felt weaker than she could ever remember being, she seemed fine. She stood and said, "Let me just get my things."

The prefect nodded and muttered something about how she looked half-dead and Pomfrey was sure to keep her overnight so she'd better bring some homework. Ginny pulled her charms textbook and her transfiguration notes and shoved them in her bag. Her hand hesitated over the diary, still open on her bed and apparently blank. As soon as she touched it words spun into being.

 _Ginevra. Are you okay? I didn't realize…. I am sorry. I am._

She picked up the book, closed it, and slipped it into her bag.

Once at the infirmary Madam Pomfrey tut-tutted at her but, other than her pallor and exhaustion, could find nothing wrong. "You just look like something drained the life right out of you," the woman said at last in exasperation, "but I can't find any reason." She decided Ginny had to stay the night and ordered her into a bed and set a collection of vials next to her. "I'll have one of your brothers bring you dinner, dear," she said. "Make sure to drink all those down. They should give you some pep back."

Ginny waited until the woman left to pull out the diary again and open it.

 _Ginevra!_ If a diary could sound demanding, this one did. _Tell me you are unharmed._

She picked up her quill and wrote _, I don't think we should do that again. What happened?_

 _I had to use your soul - your life - as energy to take form so you could see me._ The words disappeared and there was a pause. _I am sorry. I did not intend to cause you harm._

Ginny could feel her hand shaking just from exhaustion as she wrote, _Why should I believe you?_

 _Because I need you._ The answer was quick and sure. _I can't realize our plans without you._

 _I guess a book can't rule the world,_ she replied.

 _I was very worried,_ he said. _You should rest. I could feel you slipping away._

She closed the book and closed her eyes and when she opened them again the windows had become dark and Percy was sitting on the edge of a chair at her bedside, a tray balanced on his knees. He had his mouth set in the same tight expression he wore whenever Fred and George blew things up or made other mischief. She looked at him. "It's you," she said. She didn't want to reveal anything so she kept her tone flat instead of letting hope he still cared creep into her voice.

He fussed at her as she sat up, and fluffed a pillow behind her back, and smoothed the blankets, and at last picked the tray he'd set on the floor back up and balanced it on her knees. "You should be more careful," he said as he hovered over her. "You probably don't eat enough. The stress of being in Slytherin is wearing on you."

"I like being in Slytherin," she said. She could feel her shoulders tense and the tray shifted on her lap. She'd thought Percy might be the one who understood; so far he hadn't cornered her to order her out of her House. It seemed, though, that Percy was another person not being a Gryffindor was going to take from her.

"That's not what I meant," he said and frowned deeply. "I know it's been hard for you," he said. "I know our family hasn't been… they haven't been very nice. That has to be difficult, feeling like you have to defend a core part of yourself from us."

She blinked a few times and looked down at her tray until the sting at the corner of her eyes faded. She picked up a spoon and stirred the thin soup with slices of beef it in and then said, "I'm sorry. I thought you were like the rest of them."

"Well," he said, "I'm not. I have my own goals and they aren't to be trapped in a burrow with a dead end job and too many kids." He plucked a bit of lint off his robes. "Or wreaking havoc with novelty items I've cooked up in my bedroom."

"Too many kids?" Ginny asked. As the last of seven she had to be the too-maniest of the too-many.

Percy flushed a little but stood his ground. "You know what I mean," he said. "Dad and Mum can barely afford to keep a roof over all our heads. If they'd had fewer kids - "

"Or Dad wasn't so obsessed with Muggles he stayed in that worthless department," Ginny said.

"Or that," Percy admitted; he didn't like to talk about how his father's lack of ambition grated on him or how he'd struggled to be the best at everything his whole life to prove _he_ wasn't a layabout with a peculiar and embarrassing interest in worthless trivia. He grinned at his sister and changed the subject. "I'd trade out Fred and George and Ron and keep you," he said. "Best of sisters."

"Only sister," she said. "Thus best by default." She took a breath. "Best of brothers."

"Eat your soup," he said. "I'll sit here until you're done and then carry it back." He looked her in the eye. "You're my sister, Gin, no matter what House you're in."

. . . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - Thank you so much to Ibuzzo and turbulenthandholding, who try to save me from myself._**


	8. Chapter 8 - Holiday Plans

"You're staying here?" Draco asked, staring at Ginny in confusion. He'd been talking about Christmas for weeks, what he was going to do, the trip his family had planned to Paris for a weekend, the way his mum always decorated the entire Manor with a theme. One year it had been snow and she'd charmed an illusion of endless snowfall over the main stairs that led into the room with the biggest tree - she put up several - so it was like walking in the most perfect winter day ever, with giant, fat flakes that you could catch with your tongue. "I can't wait to see what she's got planned this year," he said. He'd been less cheerful about the annual, required Christmas Eve Ball. The Malfoys invited politicians and policy makers and well-known artists and it was, he said, a bore. "I have to stay two hours this year," he'd whinged. However, even having to circulate with a bunch of boring adults who asked him how Hogwarts was in overly bright tones as though he were a not very clever toddler sounded better than _staying_ at Hogwarts over the holiday _alone_.

"I can't face them," she confessed. She bit her lip and slouched a little. "I guess I'm not very brave," she said, trying to muster a laugh. "You know, not a Gryffindor and all."

"You shouldn't have to be _brave_ to go home," Draco said, upset on her behalf. He looked forward to Christmas and he knew he was supposed to cultivate her and he knew his parents had plans about her but he also just _liked_ her. It upset him she didn't have a welcoming home to go to. Ginny Weasley was funny and daring and flew faster than any girl he'd know, flew faster than any _boy_ he'd known except himself, and keeping up with her scared him.

It was a good kind of fear, though. When he beat her in their races, never by more than a finger-length, he felt thrilled and alive and in awe that she was younger than he was and just so good. How could her family not see what a wonder she was?

"They'll just be at me the whole time," she said. "I already wrote my mum and told her I had lots of stuff to catch up on and that I thought it would be better to stay and work where it was quiet and she said that was fine." Ginny's voice caught a little. Draco could tell she'd hoped, just a little, that her mum would tell her she had to go home, that family was important at Christmas and so no, she couldn't stay at Hogwarts. That hadn't happened and now she was facing the whole holiday alone.

Draco grabbed her hand. "I'll come back," he said.

Her eyes widened. "You can't," she said. "You're going to _Paris_."

He shrugged. "I've been before," he said. "It's just another crowded city."

Ginny kept protesting. "Your parents won't let you come back," she said. "You have plans. They're your _family_."

Draco squeezed her hand. "You can't be alone," he said. "Not the whole holiday. That's not right. I have to go home for the ball and Christmas Day but then I'll come back. And I'll send you stuff. Lots of stuff." He didn't tell her that his parents would be more than happy for him to come back and keep befriending the first Weasley to be in Slytherin ever. He didn't tell her his parents' eyes would gleam at the information she was afraid to go home over the holiday. "We can fly in the snow," he said. "All the way to the Forbidden Forest and back." It would make his parents happy and, well, Blaise seemed to think he had dibs the way he walked her to class and arranged himself in well-rehearsed poses against walls when she was doing homework in the common room. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to spend some time with her without competition around.

Maybe she'd even let him steal a kiss. He was pretty sure she hadn't kissed Blaise because if she had the other boy would have been sure to let him know.

She was touched by the offer to stay until Tom set her straight. _He's clever,_ Tom wrote. _Or his parents are._

 _He's my friend_ , she wrote, the words an angry slash across the paper.

 _And also a Malfoy_ , Tom said. _I knew his grandfather. They don't do anything without at least three reasons._

 _Sounds familiar,_ Ginny said.

She could almost hear Tom sigh. _Just don't trust him_ , he said. _Not entirely._

 _You said it was a good idea to stay,_ she accused him. _You said going home would be awful._

 _And it would be._ The words appeared in Tom's perfect, looping handwriting and she reached a finger out to touch them, picturing the dark haired boy with the warm voice writing them to her. She wished she could hear him. _Did you want to spend your holiday justifying yourself and being cornered by Fred and George?_

She'd been on the receiving end of a few hexes from Fred and George here at school and the thought of being trapped in a small house with them with no place to get away sounded horrible. Tom had taught her a few spells that were _not_ in the curriculum but she suspected if she used any of them on her brothers her mother would be furious. She wasn't even supposed to do magic away from school, much less the things she was learning on the side.

She quite liked those things. Regular classwork felt like walking - and walking slowly along a well-worn path - but what she learned from Tom felt like flying.

 _Fly with Malfoy_ , Tom said. _Enjoy yourself. But I want you to do one thing for me while the school is almost empty._

 _What's that_? she asked.

 _I want you to check and see if one of the girls' toilets still has a secret door in it._


	9. Chapter 9 - The Basilisk

Ginny had to prop the diary on her knee when she got to the toilet Tom wanted her to visit. Of course it would have to be the one that was always out of order because of the wretched ghost who kept flooding it. "Stupid Myrtle," she muttered; she was not a fan of the ghost who led to there being one less usable toilet on this floor because she spent most of her time feeling sorry for herself. At least the floor was dry today. It wasn't always.

 _Now what?_ Ginny wrote.

There was a long pause. _Is there still a plaque on the wall with a snake design?_

Ginny looked for it and nodded then, with a grimace at how annoying having to communicate this way was, wrote, _Yes._

 _I want you to open it._

Ginny stared at diary. _Explain_ , she wrote at last. And Tom did. There was a chamber, he told her. The entrance was behind that plaque. He could get them in, he really wanted her to get them in because he wanted to see if the basilisk was still alive. He wanted to talk to the basilisk.

 _The what?_ Ginny thought that she must have read that wrong. _You want to go look at a monster?_

 _My monster_ , he said. _It obeys me_. There was another pause before he admitted. _Or it did when I wasn't a book._

The basilisk, he told her, would really listen to anyone who spoke parseltongue but as far as he knew he was the only one. It was a magical language, not something you could learn like French. You simply were a parselmouth, the way you might be a metamorphagus, or you weren't.

Ginny was not impressed. _I'm not going down into some gross chamber hidden under stupid Myrtle's bathroom to look at a giant snake I can't control because, unlike you,_ I _am not a snake talker._

 _You don't like Myrtle either?_ Tom asked.

Ginny went to slam the book shut when one more sentence appeared. _What if you could talk to it?_

That intrigued her enough to allow herself to get drawn in. _How?_ she asked.

 _You'll have to let me in again,_ he said. She was going to refuse; the last time she had let him out of the diary, she'd ended up in a dead faint in her dorm room. Doing that in an out-of-order toilet over the Christmas holiday seemed downright stupid. _I won't hurt you_ , he said. _You aren't strong enough for me to become solid so I won't even try. But you can let me slip into your mind the way I did a little back at your house. You won't see me but I'll be able to talk for you._

Ginny looked away from the diary and studied her own reflection. Her brown eyes stared back at her with worry and nerves and curiosity warring for dominance. At last, she wrote, _Do it._

She could feel him slide into her thoughts. _Let me have control_ , he said and she could hear his warm, amused voice in her head. She tried to explain to herself how she did it, and even years later could never quite find the words, but it was as if she stepped back and Tom slipped her body on like a glove that didn't quite fit right, but one he could work with. He moved with a lighter step than she did, and with a grace she'd yet to master, and when he reached out to touch the snakes on the wall design she could feel them under her fingertips.

 _This is weird_ , she said to him. He seemed to be treading carefully, checking in to make sure she wasn't too tired, wasn't too faint.

He nodded - she nodded? - in response to her mental words and hissed at the wall. The snakes slid back and a portal opened and, putting one hand on the opening he asked, _Ready, Ginevra? There's a slide to go down and it's steep._

She huffed internally at the idea she'd be scared of a _slide_ but when he didn't respond and just waited, one hand on the edge of the hole in the wall she realized she had to actually think _at_ him. _It's fine_ , she said, and with that he pulled her body over the edge and they were half-sliding, half-falling into the bowels of Hogwarts. It was dark and musty and Ginny considered that Myrtle's incessant flooding of the bathroom seemed to have made the whole, airless place dank.

When they reached the bottom with a thud Ginny thought, _I don't care for your secret cavern, Tom._

She could hear his laughter. _Give me ten more minutes and I'll go back into my book without complaint. It would be pointless to have come down here and not check on the basilisk and if I slip away now you won't be able to control it. I'd rather it refrained from killing you._

 _Leaving you in a diary lost in this place._

 _Precisely_ , he said and then he - she? - hissed again.

Ginny considered that it was very irritating to be possessed by a boy who spoke a language she didn't. She didn't understand a word he was saying, not when he called the basilisk, not when the hideous creature came, half-awake and lethargic, from some crevice, not when it swayed back and forth in front of her. Being Tom seemed to make her immune to the creature's magic and it hissed and she hissed and some kind of agreement was reached and she had no idea what it was because she couldn't understand the hisses formed by her own tongue and lips. He reached out to pet the creature and she expected it to be slimy but the scales were dry under her fingers. She was shocked it was pleasant to stroke the thing and even more shocked by how it seemed to preen under her hand.

The ladder to climb back up to the toilet was too long and the journey to get back up into the public part of Hogwarts too long and by the time they were safely back in Myrtle's toilet and Ginny shoved Tom back into the diary she was tired.

 _Are you okay?_ The words were there when she sat cross-legged on her bed and opened the diary that night.

 _I'm fine_ , she wrote back. Then, _It's clumsy to have to talk this way._

He didn't respond to that.

. . . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - Thank you so much to Ibuzzo and turbulenthandholding, who make me a better writer via their feedback._**


	10. Chapter 10 - Christmas

Christmas at Hogwarts was lonely. Ginny was used to noise and commotion and too many people in too small a space. She was used to plum puddings and stockings overflowing with cheap presents.

Well, she had the plum pudding, she supposed, as she sat in the Hall with the other misfits and leftovers who had nowhere else to go. She didn't know any of them and none of them spoke to her. They were all lost in their own solitude, a dozen people alone in the same room.

She didn't expect any message or gifts or treats. Her mum had sent a box for her to open and it had contained this year's sweater. At least it was a dull grey instead of the usual maroon and gold; she supposed that was something. Her mum was trying even if she couldn't bring herself to use Slytherin green. She didn't expect anything else, so when the owl flew in and dropped a package at her elbow she almost jumped. She waited until she was back in her room to open it and almost squealed when she pulled out seven little boxes, all wrapped in green paper and tied in silver bows. _I wanted to make sure you had packages to open_ , read the note in the package. _They're all pretty stupid, though. See you soon. D._

She untied the ribbons slowly, trying to drag out the pleasure of getting presents from a _boy_ and pulled out a chocolate frog, a book she suspected his mother had recommended, a set of exploding snap cards, a tiny stuffed dragon that flapped its wings, some Bertie Bott every-flavour beans, a practice Snitch, and a bracelet of cheap glass beads. She popped one of the beans in her mouth and opened her diary to tell Tom.

 _Merry Christmas_ , he said and didn't even admonish her for being excited Draco Malfoy had given her a bunch of little gifts. She asked him about his Christmases as a child and he just said he didn't want to talk about it, that tales of the orphanage were too grim to burden her with, and to tell him more about the presents she'd gotten. She put her fingers on his words and wished, not for the first time, that Tom was a real person.

He was _real_ of course, but he was a book, not company. She missed talking to people. She was used to always having people around, whether it was a large family in a small house of a dorm room filled with girls, even if they were girls she didn't like and who didn't like her. The silence of Hogwarts at the holidays unnerved her. She missed having Tom's voice in her head. Anything was better than this oppressive silence.

Draco Malfoy broke that the next day when he swooped in, dropped a bundle of things to the floor, and flung himself down next to her in the common room. "Missed me?" he asked with a smug grin that made her laugh even as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him until he squeaked.

"Thank you, you big git," she said. "The presents were brilliant."

"I've got a better one," he said, "but you have to promise not to tell."

"On Merlin's grave," she said, then squealed when he got up, rummaged through his pile of stuff, and produced a cake box with a half-eaten chocolate pudding hidden inside it.

"I made off with it," he said. "Best treat ever."

They ate, and then they bundled up and flew, staying low to the ground until they were out of sight of the castle lest someone decide to enforce the rule about first years not having brooms or going flying. They'd yet to get caught but a smart person didn't get too confident about rule breaking. By the time they'd run out of breath and settled to the ground, using a long-abandoned shed as a windbreak, their faces were flushed with the cold. Draco leaned his broom up against the stones of the wall and bit his lip as he looked at her. Ginny felt suddenly nervous and, despite the chill, could feel her palms begin to sweat as the ever-so-slightly older boy who'd come back to spend the holiday with her so she wouldn't have to be alone cleared his throat. She wished she could ask Tom what to do.

"Was it lonely?" he asked. "I mean, being here?"

"Yeah," she said. She leaned against the wall in an attempt to look nonchalant and unflustered and only succeeded in feeling even more chilled as the cold from the ancient stones soaked though her cloak and into her skin.

Was Tom ever cold, she wondered. Was it cold inside a diary? Was he lonely when she didn't talk to him? Did he dream? Did he miss friends from him own time?

"Next holiday you could come home with me," Draco offered. "My mum said it would be okay. She said it was wrong for your family to let you stay here by yourself. That that wasn't the sort of thing purebloods do." He shuffled his feet in the snow and as he kicked the white powder around she couldn't help but notice his boots were the kind of leather that was expensive. "My mum can be a little… she has opinions, you know? About what people are supposed to do and who they're supposed to like and stuff." Ginny nodded. Her mum had opinions too. She was used to mothers with opinions. She was even used to mothers who took in strays. It was just that her mum took in Harry Potter and Draco's mum was going to take in... her.

Draco was still talking. "But she's great, you know. Really great."

Ginny shivered in the snow and nodded. Draco licked his lips and then moved closer and took her mittened hand in his. "You're pretty great too," he said. "Has Blaise... are you two…?"

"No," Ginny said. She was definitely flustered now and really _really_ wished she could talk to Tom. "We're just… I mean, I don't know, I guess. He walks me to class a lot but…." She bit her lip and then said, "But you're the one who sent me presents and came back to spent the holiday with me."

Draco nodded and then sniffled a bit in the cold. He seemed at a loss for how to proceed and Ginny could _almost_ hear the exasperated, warm voice of her best friend say, _Just kiss him before you freeze out here._

So she did. He almost jumped when she brushed her lips against his and then was transformed into a living swagger. His lips felt rough, chapped she supposed from the winter, and she bumped her nose against his. "Maybe we could go back inside," she said. "I'm cold."

 _What did you think?_ Tom asked her later, amused as usual.

 _It was cold_ , she wrote back. _And wet. And kind of gross._

 _It gets better_ , he promised but when she asked for details he refused to elaborate.

. . . . . . . . . .

 **A/N - Thank you so much to Ibuzzo and turbulenthandholding, who make me a better writer via their feedback.**


	11. Chapter 11 - Draco Whinges

Draco sulked when he didn't get what he wanted and what he wanted was Ginevra Weasley. And he was fairly sure she liked him too - as well she should because he was a _whole year_ older and a Malfoy and she just a firstie - but she didn't seem to have any intention of singling him out. She kissed him over the holiday and they spent every day together flying and exploring weird old passageways in the castle, but as soon as everyone else came back she just spread her attention around. Blaise still walked her to class. Theodore still sat with her at meals and tugged on her hair. She didn't treat him like he was anything special and that irritated like a bug bite he couldn't quite reach to scratch. It was outrageous. It was _unfair_.

He complained to his mother expecting sympathy but all he got was a note reminding him to invite the girl home for the Easter holidays and make sure to find out if she had any food allergies because after that unfortunate incident with dear Millicent one couldn't be too careful.

Millie was allergic to strawberries. They made her whole face break out in red welts. It hadn't been pretty.

Narcissa was more forthcoming with Lucius. She passed him Draco's whinging note and the man almost managed to contain his laughter. "Poor lad," he said. "It's the first time he's not gotten what he wanted."

They rolled their eyes in mutual sympathy. Draco could be a bit of a horror and if he was one they'd created with indulgent parenting, well, they still recognized it.

"He'll be fine," Lucius said as he reread the very aggrieved note that had words underlined and occasionally resorted to use of all capital letters as if lower case couldn't properly convey how very unfair it was for this girl to not want a steady boyfriend at all of eleven years old. _I know she likes me,_ Draco's note read. _IT'S NOT FAIR._ "It'll teach him to work for something and make him value her more when they're older. If she just fell into his lap now, he'd be tired of her by the time he was fifteen."

"Sooner than that," Narcissa said.

"We play for the long view," Lucius said. "Not to get our son a date to Ministry Children's Dance."

Narcissa made a face. She'd been on the planning committee for that wretched social event for three years now and every time she tried to beg off she was reminded how important it was for suspected Death Eater families to maintain ties to the community. Political influence came through networking and knowing the right person, no matter how pure your blood was, and that meant running charities and attending the right luncheons. Draco, mercifully, wasn't old enough to attend the Children's Dance yet, but soon he would be and then she'd not only have to organize a charitable party for the tedious offspring of bureaucrats, she'd have to watch her own child mingle with them.

Watching the blood traitor Weasley clan clutch at their fake pearls in distress as Draco escorted the only girl in their clan to the event might make it somewhat less of a chore. Narcissa hoped that little Ginevra had better taste than her mother and made a mental note to take the girl shopping when she was a bit older. Even if they child couldn't afford much she could be taught to recognize quality couture and good lines so that when she was properly brought into the fold, as it were, she didn't embarrass herself.

"The long view is always tricky," was all she said. "Children have opinions, and, more worryingly, they never did find a body. _He_ may not be wholly gone."

Lucius nodded. "It's a gamble," he acknowledged. "But to bring the first Weasley in hundreds of years - "

"Ever," Narcissa corrected him. "I checked the records."

"Ever," he said with a nod of his head, "into the folds of Dark magic would be quite a coup. Worth the risk, I think. And if _He_ comes back we claim to have been doing it all with _His_ goals in mind."

"I wouldn't mind a world where He stayed nicely missing," Narcissa murmured.

The Dark Arts were one thing but a psychopath with a god complex quite another. She enjoyed playing politics, even if her role often involved more charitable planning committees than Wizengamot hearings. The Blacks, as well as the Malfoys, had pulled the strings of their world for a long time and Albus Dumbledore was a worthy opponent. He'd co-opted her idiot cousin Sirius, who now languished in prison as a direct consequence of that poor choice, though anyone with a brain knew the stupid boy hadn't killed those people. Sirius wouldn't have killed Muggles he didn't know. As unstable as he'd always been, his violence had always been personal; he was a Black, after all, even if he'd landed on the tedious and light side of the last war. Their hatreds tended to be personal.

"Things are easier without quite that much… passion," she said. She didn't need to say more. She and Lucius had been married a long time, and he gave her a long, sideways glance that said he heard everything she didn't say. In this, as in most things, they were agreed.

"I suppose you've given Draco advice on how to win the girl," he asked, returning to the matter at hand.

Narcissa laughed. "No," she said. "I reminded him to invite her home and made no mention o his twelve-year-old social difficulties. Whether the girl thinks of him as a love interest, substitute brother, or friend makes no difference to my plan to take her out for ice cream and make a fuss about buying her a very expensive hat that she'll love and wear everywhere she goes and that everyone will know came from us."

"Little political prize," Lucius said, his fond tone for his wife and his words somewhat ambiguous.

"I wonder how she feels about the Dark Arts," Narcissa murmured. "Probably too soon to ask, however." She tweaked the note out of her husband's hands and smiled again at her son's petulance. "We should throw the child a birthday party and invite all their little Slytherin friends."

"Oh, the joys of making the Weasleys squirm," Lucius said. "Life is wonderful."

. . . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - Thank you so much to Ibuzzo and turbulenthandholding, who beta read the first version of this for me. New errors in this version are my fault._**

 ** _Several people have asked whether Draco's gift of a cheap bracelet in the last chapter has the same significance it did in Green Girl. It does not. Different story, no carry over of non-canon elements. It's just the kind of cheap gift a pre-teen might get a girl he had a crush on, especially if his mother took him shopping and gave him suggestions. There are no long term implications._**


	12. Chapter 12 - Conflict with Hermione

Ginny had taken to writing the spells she had to learn in her diary and Tom had opinions on all of them. This one was pointless. That one was a good building block for more advanced work. She should try this other one silently.

 _You're worse than McGonagall_ , she complained one day.

He was, too. He was relentless and obsessed and cared more about magic than anyone she'd ever heard of. If he'd had a respiration system, he'd have breathed magic. If he'd had a heart, it would have beat for nothing but magic. As it was, he had words and they were all about magic and how she needed to be the best. _You're the seventh child_ , he said in fit of pique when she couldn't manage some spell normal students didn't even try until their N.E.W.T.s. _This should be easy for you._

 _Just because you're locked in a book doesn't mean I am,_ she'd snapped back.

He sulked for several hours after that and wouldn't speak to her again until she apologized and promised to try harder.

She did, too, but even the hardest working students need a break and, on one of those perfect winter days where the sun reflects off snow that manages to sparkle and no one cares how bitingly cold it is because it's so bright, Ginny took one.

Her eyes squinting against the glare, Ginny pushed her way out into the courtyard to relax between classes. Theo's hand was on her lower back and she had her head tipped up to give him the smile she had been practicing in the mirror for days. She probably would have ignored the scoff of derision she heard from her brother Ron if it hadn't been for the way Theo's hand briefly curled into a claw against her spine.

"How can you stand your brother's choice of friends?" he asked in an undertone tipping his head toward Ron. Ginny looked over and made a face. As usual, Ron was in a tight group with Harry Potter and that Hermione Granger girl.

"I'm not his keeper," she said with a shrug.

"Does she come over to your house?" Theo asked with disgust in his voice, his lip curled at even the idea.

Ginny looked over at the bushy-haired Muggle-born with her overstuffed book bag and her buck teeth and remembered the way the older girl had been dismissively kind the previous summer. "She does," Ginny admitted. "But you know what my parents are like. It's not as if anybody asks my opinion about houseguests."

Theo made another face and then admitted, "I suppose not." He looked down at her and asked with some concern in his voice, "Is that why you didn't want to go home over the holiday?"

Ginny shrugged; it would be easy to claim that was the reason but some stubborn streak of pride wouldn't let her. She didn't really care that Hermione was Muggle-born. She was boring, and a know-it-all, and bossy, and that all made her grating to be around. She interrupted people, and couldn't ever admit she might not know something. "I don't think that she'd been invited over," Ginny said. "I just didn't want to hear the endless complaints that I'm not another perfect Gryffindor like the rest of them."

"Who would want to be a Gryffindor?" Theo asked. "Even the best ones are nothing but mindless bullies. And the way Dumbles kisses their arses makes me sick." He changed his voice to a cruel, querulous imitation of the almost universally beloved headmaster. "And to Harry Potter, one hundred points for waking up today."

Ginny giggled, glad she didn't have to defend Hermione out loud. "Well, I didn't want to be," she said. "And Percy's not like that."

Theo shrugged at her defense of her older brother. The skinny prefect didn't take points unfairly from Slytherin and that was probably all he knew about that boy. He didn't know Percy still smiled at her. He didn't know Percy had visited her in the Infirmary. There were, she realized, things even second year wealthy boys didn't know.

There probably wouldn't have been a confrontation if Ron hadn't called out, "Hey, Gin, leave your tosser boyfriend and get over here. Hermione has a question for you."

Ginny made a face and turned away but Theo gave her a little shove toward her brother and his friends so she wrinkled her nosed at him and rolled her eyes but walked over to the threesome, her lanky housemate a few steps behind her. "What do you want?" she demanded.

Hermione looked a little taken aback by the tone but recovered herself and just said, "All the roosters at Hogwarts died over the holiday and I know you were here so I was going to ask you some questions about – "

"Why would I know anything about _roosters_?" Ginny demanded. "You're so _weird."_ She crossed her arms and glared at the other girl, the memory of how much roosters bled soaking into her mind. They were loud and they squawked and she'd had to hold them down and slit their throats and she'd gotten blood on her favorite gloves, all because Tom was worried they'd kill his stupid pet basilisk. Fear that Hermione might really know she'd been the culprit, and what that might mean, made Ginny cruel. _"_ It's not enough to be ugly, you have to be weird too? Why would you think I spent the holiday at the _chicken coop_?"

Theo snorted and Ginny flushed, suddenly _sure_ that Draco had let all his roommates know she'd kissed him. Stupid git.

"I just wanted to understand," Hermione began but Ginny cut her off.

"Understand what? Poultry? Go ask that stupid Hagrid you three love so much. He'll be grateful for your attention but I'm not.

Ginny," Ron said in shock as Theo snickered.

"She's not just your little sister any more, weasel," he said. "She's one of us now, and _we_ don't spend our time with _farm animals_."

"Just shut up," Ron said, his voice low and angry. "Maybe you do belong in Slytherin after all."

Ginny swallowed, stung at the venom in his tone even though she knew she'd been vicious and if there was anything you could predict about Ron it was that he'd defend his friends. He'd defended her once upon a time, but not anymore. She wasn't one of his precious Gryffindors.

"No one went bad who wasn't in Slytherin, Gin," Ron said. "Are we going to see you sucking up to Lucius Malfoy and talking about Dark curses next?"

"Not caring about roosters doesn't mean I'm a Dark witch," Ginny said. Killing them might, but she wasn't going to think about that. She focused on her anger at her brother and how he'd cut her out just as soon as he could. She didn't need him. "Maybe if Dad wasn't so obsessed with Muggles and all their junk we wouldn't need to suck up to Lucius Malfoy because he'd be sucking up to us We're in the Sacred Twenty-Eight too.." She turned to Theo who had a look of pleased appreciation on his face. "Let's go. It smells in this corner of the courtyard."

 _Stupid witch_ , she wrote later to Tom. _Everyone fawns on her because she's so talented. My mum's always going on about Hermione this and Hermione that and have another biscuit Hermione and meanwhile it's Ginny come help me with the dishes. She's got money, too._

Tom sucked her words away and replaced them with his own. _Everything in good time, Ginevra. We'll have everything. But you have to learn the magic first._

 ** _. . . . . . . . . ._**

 ** _A/N - Thank you so much to Ibuzzo and turbulenthandholding, who beta read the original version of this for me. They are my bright sunshine!_**


	13. Chapter 13 - Rivals

_I hate her._ Ginny wrote with such force her quill almost dug into the paper of her diary. _I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her._

 _Who?_ Tom asked.

That Ginny was the darling of the second year Slytherin boys hadn't gone unnoticed by the girls in her own year. The second year girls treated her like a puppy their boys had adopted; they tied bows into her hair and laughed behind their hands with her as they taught her to mock the self-important Ravenclaws and the endlessly rambunctious Gryffindors. Already more aware of politics than the first year students, Pansy and Daphne and the rest of their year saw that Ginny had been championed by Narcissa Malfoy and took their cue from that.

The girls Ginny shared a room with, however, only saw that she had attention they wanted, attention they couldn't understand. For months their resentment had festered until a little ring-leader with blonde curls and an upturned nose asked, "What's it like to be from a family of blood traitors? I'm just asking." Her words had sounded innocent enough, and she'd been savvy enough to keep her jibe in the privacy of their room, and that had opened the floodgates to a torrent of abuse. Ginny was poor. Ginny had old clothes. Ginny had old books. Was that a _boy's_ diary? Ginny didn't have any _real_ friends. It went on and on.

Ginny had never liked the girls in her room because they seemed unbearably stupid to her. She never stopped to consider her own unusual grasp of wizarding politics was because she had Tom Riddle whispering ideas and suggestions to her; she just saw that the girls she lived with understood nothing and dismissed them as idiots because of it. Combined with her popularity among the boys, that had made them hate her.

Tom, who understood boys and cultivating male friendships, had never realized that Ginny had to play in a different sandbox. She wrote and wrote and wrote out her fury and her hurt that these girls made fun of her hair and her shoes and her bag, even her lovely scarf that Draco's mum had sent her was targeted. "How sad," the little queen bee had said, "it really just makes everything else you own look that much rattier."

 _We'll kill them_ , he wrote at last.

 _Tom!_ Ginny was shocked. _We can't do that._

 _We can't get caught_ , he corrected her. The words swirled away and a quick sketch took their place. Tom was not a good artist but the stick figure of a girl with long hair pointing a wand at another stick figure was clear enough, especially when he added a burst coming out of the wand. He erased the target and then redrew her lying on the ground.

 _I won't kill her_ , Ginny wrote again though,to be honest,the idea was tempting. How dare this horrid girl single her out just for being well-liked by boys. Just for being poor. Just for being a Weasley.

Tom was stubborn, however. _I know what it's like, Gin. They look at you with a sneer in their eyes because you don't have the right robes or the right shoes. Your family isn't impressive enough. You're poor. People like us, we have to make our way on our merits and our cunning. We have to cultivate the kind of respect the Theodore Notts of the world get just for existing._

 _It's easier for Theo_ , she admitted. _He's rich and his family has always been in Slytherin and his dad's important._

 _No one throws insults at him, do they?_ Tom asked her. She didn't respond so he went on. _If they don't respect you because of your parents or your vault, make them be afraid to insult you. Make them hurt when they do._

 _I don't know_ , she hedged.

 _They respect your little Malfoy because they're afraid of what his father will do,_ Tom said. _Not because a skinny 12-year-old is intimidating. But you, Ginevra, you can be more than an aristocrat coasting on your father's influence. You can be feared for yourself._

 _I won't kill her_ , she said again.

Tom didn't argue that point any longer. He simply spent the next hour going over ways she could make her little tormenter pay and not get in trouble herself. By the time he was done instructing her, Ginny's tears had dried up and she had to work to keep the pleased smile from curling her lips all the way up into a cruel little smirk. This she could do. She set the diary aside and opened the curtains of her bed. As usual, her nemesis was sprawled out on her bed, a fashion magazine in front of her and a bottle of expensive nail polish in her hand.

"Off to curry more favor with the Malfoys?" the girl asked. She grinned over at one of her followers.

The second girl looked up from her own magazine. It was already clear that puberty was not going to be kind to her and she spent endless hours trying to determine how to turn herself into a swan. This effort was doomed to failure but so far she hadn't given up hope that the right cream or eyeshadow charm would make her over. "Kissy kissy?"

"I heard that that brand can burn your skin," Ginny said, pointing at the ringleader's nail polish bottle as she pushed at it with her magic to silently transfigure the contents the way Tom had suggested. Neither girl noticed the slight twitch of Ginny's wand. "You should be careful."

"You're so stupid," the girl said. "This was recommended by Witch Weekly. Just because you can't afford it doesn't mean it's bad." Her friend sniggered in agreement.

Ginny shrugged. "Just advice so you don't get hurt," she said. "I'd hate to see you hurt."

The girl rolled her eyes, took the brush, and painted a big stripe of the lacquer onto her hand to prove Ginny was wrong. It only took a moment for her to gasp in pain as the paint began to burn its way into her skin. She fumbled the bottle in her shock and ended up spilling more of the charmed contents onto herself.

Ginny regarded her with a calm smile. "I did warn you," she said. "You probably should go to the infirmary."

The girl cradled her hand against her body as she clambered off her bed and to the door of their room, giving Ginny an angry look that, for the first time, had a hint of caution behind it. "Get out of my way, Weasel," she said.

Ginny stepped to the side. "Stay out of mine," she countered softly as the girl fled to Madam Pomfrey.

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

 **A/N - Thank you so much to Ibuzzo and turbulenthandholding, who beta read this for me. They are the very best.**


	14. Chapter 14 - Luna and her Necklace

"Why isn't she wearing shoes?" Pansy pointed at Ginny's friend. Her stage whisper carried to every part of the Slytherin common room and the girl sitting with Ginny on the floor, her legs crossed in front of her and first year spell books spread out, looked up.

"People steal them," she said placidly. "It's warm today so I didn't worry about it."

Pansy Parkinson pushed her chin forward as she examined the barefoot girl. Her dirty blonde hair framed a face that would be beautiful when she was older but wasn't now because her grey eyes seemed too big. "Ravenclaw?" Pansy asked, indicating the blue tie that hung, undone, around the girl's neck.

"Luna," the girl, for that was her name, said.

"Who steals your shoes?" Daphne Greengrass asked. She could always be pulled into a conversation about shoes or hats.

"My Housemates," Luna said. "Did you know there's a shoe history museum in Canada?"

Daphne blinked at her as a must-see destination was added to her list. Pansy stayed focused on the more immediate oddity. "You can't just wander around without shoes," she said. "People will think you're touched."

"They do," Luna agreed. "They call me Looney."

Ginny nodded. "I've tried to get to her to hex them but she refuses."

Pansy snorted and Theo, happy to be distracted from his own work, said, "I bet we know stuff you firsties don't. You should let us teach you."

Cassius Warrington, one of the much older students who had been lying on the couch with the book he was supposed to be studying draped over his face, perked up at that. "Hex session?" he asked. "We could go to one of the classrooms no one uses anymore." Within a few minutes the devilry of a bad idea had taken over and all the students in Slytherin common room found themselves wandering down the halls to a dusty room filled with broken desks, a bookshelf holding outdated editions of textbooks with broken spines and missing covers, and a long bench. Cassius clearly considered himself somewhat of a skilled hexer and subjected them all to a sonorous lecture on the matter. He probably would have kept going if a bored student hadn't interrupted him with the suggestion they just _duel_ and show the little firsties what real witches and wizards could do.

Ginny and Luna, who had both sat down on the bench, leaned forward to watch. "This is fun," Luna said, as Cassius Warrington knocked two different opponents down. "Almost like having friends."

Pansy, seated on her other side, made another one of her rude noises. "You just pay attention and the next time one of those stupid 'Claws tries to take your stuff, let one of these loose."

"Works better if you can do it silently," Ginny said without thinking. "And you do have friends. We're your friends, right?"

"Silently?" Cassius had heard her idle comment. "Sure, that's better, but no one even tries to learn that until sixth year. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I can do it," Ginny boasted, narrowing her eyes. "Only for a couple of spells, but I can."

"Show me," he demanded, laughing at her and grinning at the other older students. "Come duel."

"You don't have to do this," Draco hissed. "He's years older than us."

"I'm _fine_ ," she said, though some of the hexes she'd see the boy use had been a little scary and she'd already decided she needed to ask Tom about them. She was fine, too. She stood up and bowed and gripped her wand and just _twitched_ it once someone called start and Cassius gasped as the curse slammed into him. Then she yanked his wand - she still needed to verbalize her _accio_ which was embarrassing because it would have been _much_ more dramatic if she hadn't.

The older boy's face spread into a slow smile. "I like you," he said. "You fly?"

"I do," she said.

"Try out for Quidditch next year," he said. "We could use someone tiny and sneaky."

"You still need shoes," Pansy said to Luna as the older Slytherins wandered off, impressed by the firstie but not wanting to admit it. Rumbles of 'that explained why a Weasley was Sorted into Slytherin, she was actually a talented witch and not just some glory-hound trouble maker like the rest of her family' followed the group as they headed off down the corridor and left Ginny and her friends alone in the classroom.

"It's not that cold today," Luna demurred, "And they always come back eventually." She looked down at her toes and wiggled them. "Sometimes not both, though."

"You can't just let people pick on you like that," Draco said as Ginny's arm around the odd girl's shoulders helped him decide what to do. Theo was fishing socks out of a pocket and trying to put them on the girl's feet to keep them warm and if Theo could be noble so could he. He could be impressive. "They can't just take your things. We should all go up to your dorm and demand they return them to you."

"I don't think that would work," Luna said. "But thank you. You're very sweet."

"What are friends for?" Draco asked. He nudged Ginny. "You are coming home with me for Easter, right? My mum is _all_ over me to have you over for a party. And you're coming too, right?" He looked at Luna, whose eyes got wide.

"Are you asking me to a party?" The idea clearly delighted her.

"Don't get too excited," Theo advised from where he knelt at her toes, trying to get her to pay attention long enough to get a second sock on her icy feet. "Narcissa Malfoy is sure to insist you wear shoes."

 _A Lovegood?_ Tom asked later. _I don't think I know that family._

 _She's very nice,_ Ginny wrote. _She's so clever and always wears this odd necklace. Like this._ She drew the little triangle pattern for Tom and there was a bit of a pause.

 _It's good to have friends_ , he wrote at last. _I'm glad you have friends because the girls in your year in Slytherin are all awful but this Luna sounds very interesting._

 _. . . . . . . . . ._

 ** _A/N - Thank you so much to turbulenthandholding, who beta read the original version of this for me. She is a treasure. All newly added typos are on me._**


	15. Chapter 15 - Time Passes

Time passed. Ginny spent her summers at home where she learned quickly enough not to talk about school. Any complaints about the petty cruelties of the girls she shared a room with were met with comments about what did she expect from a bunch of Slytherins. Any pleasure she showed in her friendships with girls like Pansy and Daphne was met with sneers from Fred and George that Ickle Ginnikins thought she was too good for her family. Even Luna was dismissed as even dafter than she seemed if she wanted to spend her time with the snakes.

Every summer Narcissa Malfoy threw a birthday party for her. Ginny would look forward to it all summer and feel despondent when it was over. Only at the Malfoy's could she relax and stop bracing herself against petty hexes at the hands of her brothers. Only at the Malfoy's did she feel valued for who she was as a person, not just as a daughter.

That first summer Narcissa suggested she take Ginny out for her school supplies, claiming she'd never had the pleasure of shopping for a daughter. Tom derided that explanation as beyond simplistic.

 _She's showing you off_ , he wrote.

 _Let her_ , Ginny wrote back. _At least I'll get something out of it._

Molly Weasley eyed the shopping bags that came back that first summer, and every summer after that, but said nothing other than she hoped Ginny had thanked the other woman.

Ginny had.

Before her second year, Ginny had flung her arms around Narcissa Malfoy's slender neck in a move she and Tom had discussed ahead of time. Draco's mother had pretended to be flustered by the sudden affection but Ginny had seen the quick flash of satisfaction in her eyes and the way she'd subtly checked to make sure other women in the fancy restaurant where they'd stopped for fizzy lemon drinks and dessert after their shopping trip had seen. They had.

Ginny Weasley was publicly in the Malfoy's camp after that.

Before her third year she'd let Narcissa buy her dress robes for the mysterious event hinted at but not explained on the school supplies list. Ginny had already teased the information out of Percy, who'd been thrilled to have a sympathetic ear to talk to about his success at work, even if that ear was attached to a barely teenaged sister.

Everyone else in their family dismissed his ambitions but Ginny just propped her feet up on one arm of their ratty couch and told him he'd end up the youngest Minister of Magic in history.

He'd shaken his head at that and said, bitterly, that you needed better family and personal connections than he had. "It's who you know, Gin," he told her. "Wish I'd told that hat to put me in Slytherin."

"Don't let Mum hear you say that," Ginny advised but she tucked away the advice. It fit neatly to what Tom told her, fit perfectly against what she could see with the Malfoys. The world ran on friendships made at school and chums so unquestioned you didn't ask why they needed a favor. Arthur Weasley might do favors, but he didn't have friends who could do any back, or not any that Ginny cared about.

Narcissa Malfoy, with her casual gifts of, "Oh, I saw this jumper and thought of you. I can't wear it with my colouring but wouldn't it look lovely with your hair?" could. And would.

 _And someday_ , Ginny wrote in her diary, _we'll be the ones dispensing the favors._

 _We will_ , Tom agreed.

She sent owls to a Pansy and Daphne and Luna, telling them to make sure their dress robes were good, and why, and when they all sat on the train heading back to Hogwarts for her third year she grinned at Theo and told him he'd better make sure Luna hadn't bought a pretty frock for nothing. He yanked on her pony tail the way he still did and teased her that maybe he'd ask her to this mystery event.

Draco glowered at him at that but Ginny just shrugged and said as long as someone asked Luna she didn't care who she went with. Pansy nudged Draco with her foot and said she'd heard rumors it was going to be a Yule Ball.

"How did you hear that?" Draco demanded.

Ginny and Pansy just smirked at one another and Draco muttered something rude about how all girls were crazy.

Blaise grabbed Ginny's hand. "I'm not dumb enough to wait around," he said. "Ginevra, will you grace my arm with your presence at the Yule Ball?"

"If there is one," Draco muttered.

Ginny made a show of batting her eyes. "Why, Blaise," she said with the best simper she could manage. "I'd be honored."

"You sound like that idiot Brown girl your brother sniffs around," Draco said.

"Rude," Pansy said. "Just because she isn't going to a dance with you is no reason to compare her to one of the Griffindorks."

Draco glowered first at Pansy, then at Ginny, who'd pulled one of her textbooks out - new courtesy of Narcissa Malfoy - and was looking over the spells with the growing realization she was going to be bored again this year. Right as Draco was asking Pansy to be his date to this dance that might be happening, Theo asked, "Is there even anything in there you can't already do?"

Ginny flipped to the end and, as her teeth gnawed at her lip, she admitted she knew all the material. Summers were long and she spent most of her time in her room talking to Tom. Her mother confiscated her wand every year so she "couldn't do magic" and as a result she and Tom practiced wandless spells.

 _The orphanage was grim_ , he'd told her when she asked how he'd gotten so good at whatever's supposed to be the very hardest magic. _There wasn't much to do but this._

 _Don't let people know._

Secrecy remained paramount. Tom Riddle, former Head Boy, parselmouth, diary, had secrets and was her secret. "Don't trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain," her father would intone over dinner whenever there'd been some particularly ridiculous contretemps at work, and she'd think of her diary with pleasure. She knew things her parents didn't even think about in their nightmares and that gave her a little thrill.

Maybe she shouldn't, but she trusted Tom. He helped her handle the girls in her dorm. He'd helped her make friends with these older Housemates. He taught her magic that made her very soul spin. All her parents did was frown at her for not being just like her brothers.

"You are amazing," Theo said now, shaking his head. "I wish I understood how you knew so much."

She laughed and tossed her hair. "It's a secret," she said. "Just like this ball."

. . . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - Time jump! Thank you to turbulenthandholding who holds my hand over the internet by beta reading._**


	16. Chapter 16 - Tom and Ginny Talk

_It's not that I don't like Blaise,_ Tom wrote. _Blaise is fine. Enjoy the dance with Blaise._

Ginny looked at the words with a smirk. She could tell by the way the ink spattered when Tom added the punctuation he was agitated. _You'd have preferred Theo?_

He didn't respond so she added, _or Draco?_

There still wasn't a reply and she let out a sigh. _Tom,_ she wrote. _You aren't telling me something._

 _There are lots of things I haven't told you,_ he replied. _You're a child._

 _I'm fourteen_ , she wrote. Now her own punctuation spattered when she jabbed her quill against the paper. _I've kissed two different boys, I'm an alternate Seeker on the Quidditch team. I'm practically an adult._

 _I am an adult._

 _Oh please. You're seventeen._

She didn't stop to consider the absurdity of insisting she was an adult at fourteen but he wasn't at seventeen. She wasn't even sure if that was his age. Did Tom only age when they interacted? What did he _do_ when she wasn't talking to him? She wasn't sure and he'd never been very forthcoming on the matter.

 _It's not like you even date,_ she added. _And you aren't interested in me that way. Why do you care who I go out with?_

If a diary could sigh, hers sighed. The pages even rustled in the still air. _I wasn't always a diary,_ he pointed out. _I was human once and I was a sixteen year old boy with all that that implies._

 _You wanked off a lot?_ she asked. Ginny had a lot of brothers; the habits of teenage boys were not unknown to her.

Tom sometimes made it obvious he'd grown up in a different era. _Ginevra_! he wrote, his shock apparent and she laughed where she sat on her bed, her legs folded under her and the curtains drawn around her for a semblance of privacy. She hadn't thought to cast a sound muffling spell to write to Tom and one of her roommates muttered something about crazy Ginevra at the sound of her laughing to herself.

She should be gathering her things and going over to the fourth years' room to get dressed for the Yule Ball. None of the other third year Slytherins had been invited and Ginny had rather dreaded getting ready as they watched in sullen resentment until Pansy had said she had an idea for Ginny's hair and it had become obvious the fourth years just assumed she'd come to their room.

 _Sorry_ , she wrote, not sorry at all.

 _I had a friend,_ he wrote. _A close friend._

 _Name?_

 _Abbie._

 _Abigail?_ Ginny was already planning to scour the old yearbooks and photographs to find out what this girl looked like. Maybe real world Tom had scurried off and married her and they had children and grandchildren and, oh devilish thought, maybe one of them was a student at Hogwarts right now.

 _Abraxas._

Ginny paused and looked at the boy's name and her eyes widened. She glanced up at the curtains as if afraid one of her roommates had seen, then looked back at the paper.

 _Oh,_ she wrote. She searched for something to say that would keep her from looking like a jerk. _That must have been tricky back when you lived_. She imagined it was probably tricky now. She didn't think she knew anyone who was openly gay at school. Not one person.

 _What was he like?_

Tom hesitated. _Smart,_ he wrote at last. _Devious._

 _You liked him?_

 _We were going to rule the world together._ The words faded with less flourish than the usual swirling drama. _I'm assuming from what you've told me of politics, we failed._

 _The current Minister is named Fudge,_ she wrote. _Cornelius, not Abraxas._ Should she say she was sorry, she wondered? What was the appropriate social response to telling your diary his real world self hadn't succeeding in ruling anything large enough for her to have heard of him? She settled on, _I could look up what happened to him if you wanted._

 _I'm fairly sure he got married and had a son,_ Tom wrote. _He would have had to anyway. Family obligations._

 _I'm sorry,_ she wrote. That seemed painfully tragic to her. Doomed love, a forbidden romance the other boy's family would never have accepted. Bad enough to have surely seen it play out as his real world self. That he had to learn about it again as this copied version, caught in his own diary, seemed cruel.

 _I hope that he's happy,_ Tom wrote and it was clear that he wanted subject to be closed.

 _I could still look him up for you,_ she said. _It's really no trouble._

 _I told you,_ Tom said, _I know._

 _How can you know?_

 _Because your friend Pansy is going to the ball you should be getting ready for with his grandson. I assume grandson._

Ginny stared at the words. _Abraxas Malfoy?_ , she wrote at last. She wished she'd known.

 _It was a long time ago._ The words appeared and she didn't think she believed them. It hadn't been that long ago for him. _Try not to picture me as pining, Ginevra. We were friends. We enjoyed one another and had plans. I have rather easily replaced him with you. I have hopes you and I will be somewhat more successful than he and I seem to have been._

 _Not romantically,_ she said. _We can't ever be that._

She'd had a vague image of herself as becoming attractive to her male best friend and perfect confidant when she was older and prettier. He'd told her she would be beautiful, after all. That dream withered and died as she realized it wasn't only her age that had made her not be his type.

 _Well,_ he wrote. _I'll continue to live through your own conquests rather vicariously if you don't mind._

 _But you don't care for Blaise,_ she asked.

 _My taste has always run more to blonds,_ he said. _Go have fun and try not to get your toes stepped on._

 _I will,_ she wrote. Before she closed up the book she added, _I love you, Tom. Thanks for telling me about Abraxas._

 _. . . . . . . . ._

 ** _A/N - Thank you, as always, to turbulenthandholding._**


	17. Chapter 17 - The Yule Ball

"You look beautiful." Blaise offered Ginny his arm when she edged out of the girls' dorms with an attempt at adult suavity. The nervous bobbing of his throat as he swallowed betrayed him, but she felt fairly nervous too. Blaise wore dress robes that probably cost more than her father made in a month and, more, he'd pierced his ear over the summer and she doubted the rock that glittered from his lobe was fake. He was the same boy she'd flirted with for years but he seemed intimidating and she felt provincial by comparison. At least she did until he whispered, "Luna made a vegetable boutonnière for Theo," in her ear.

"Is he wearing it?" she asked, afraid the smug elitist might have refused.

"Not only is he wearing it," Blaise said with a grin as they left the Slytherin common room and joined the group of students winding their way of the stairs to the main hall where the dance would be, "he transfigured some of the roses in his corsage to be radishes to match."

Ginny was about to say that was the sweetest thing when Blaise said, "Shite." He fished a battered wrist corsage out of his pocket where he'd stashed it and Ginny laughed at the crushed petals of the white roses. Blaise looked guilty until she said, "I love it," and held out her hand so he could slide it over her fingers and settle it on her wrist. After that she felt comfortable with her friend again. Blaise might be rich and he might be sophisticated but he'd mangled her corsage and that made him ordinary again.

"What have you thought about the tournament so far?" he asked as they walked.

She made a face and he grinned. "Me too," he admitted. "Would have been better if Cassius had gotten in, maybe, but…"

"Right?" Like all her House, Ginny had held her thumbs when Dumbledore had announced the names of the Champions for all the schools in hopes that Cassius Warrington's name would emerge from the stupid cup, but it hadn't. Instead the cup had spit out the name of some Hufflepuff she'd never heard of, and then, of course, worthless Harry Potter.

That had set Draco off for _days_. He'd been so unbearable she'd stomped off in the middle of one of his rants more than once. Not that she'd refused to wear the 'Potter Stinks' badge he'd given her, of course. The look Ron had given her when he'd spotted it on her school robe had been perfection. He'd even hissed, 'Traitor' at her one day when he passed her in the halls.

She and Blaise reached the Hall and he graciously led her into the throng, at which point she shrieked and threw her arms around Luna and both girls admired one another's robes and flowers. "It's good luck to crush the petals," Luna said as she looked at Ginny's corsage. "Not many people think to do it, though. You'll kiss your true love tonight."

Ginny rolled her eyes but wished she could run and ask Tom whether Luna was right or just ridiculous. It could be hard to tell. Sometimes she repeated Luna's odd claims to Tom and he agreed the blonde girl was right. Sometimes he drew rude pictures.

"You just probably won't notice it," Luna added.

"If I could borrow my date?" Blaise asked Theo. They hovered and hesitated at the edge of the dance floor, all four of them wanting to dance and none of them wanting to be first. At last some of the older students ventured out and the youngest Slytherins at the party joined the fray. Blaise started by putting his hands very stiffly on Ginny's waist and she put hers on his shoulders and they rocked back and forth in a rhythm that bore no relationship to the music. By the third song they were standing closer, and by the fourth they were all shaking back and forth with any sense of the decorum that their unfortunate Head of House had tried to impart during a dance lesson meeting forgotten.

Professor Severus Snape gritting his teeth through a lesson on how to dance so they did not embarrass their school and their House in front of the foreign guests had been horrifying and left all the students feeling more awkward than they had before the looming man had tried to explain the mechanics of waltzing. A handful of the more rarefied aristocrats had been subjected to dance lessons as children but Blaise had confessed he was not in that elite group.

Ginny had been relieved. Now she saw it didn't matter. Even Draco, who'd bragged about how he'd taken lessons for three whole years, was gyrating just like everyone else.

Her eyes lingered on Draco's pale hair. She wondered how much he looked like his grandfather. Had it been weird for Tom whenever she'd come back to her room and written about kissing Draco? She'd complained kissing was wet and sloppy and Tom had said once he was surprised Draco was so inept. Did that mean Abraxas had been better?

It was so _weird_ that Tom had dated Draco's _grandfather._

Maybe the way her brain kept thinking about kissing was why she ended up in a dark corner kissing Blaise. "You're so pretty," he said between kisses, pressing his lips to hers and poking his tongue up against her mouth. "You're the prettiest girl at Hogwarts."

Ginny didn't think _that_ was true but it was nice to hear. She floated through the rest of the night on the power of that compliment. She even smiled at her brother who, for some inexplicable reason, was wearing ruffles and scowling where he sat with Harry Potter. Neither of them seemed to have dates, which was odd, but not her problem.

He didn't smile back.

When she got back to the Slytherin common room, admiring the wilted and crushed white roses still on her wrist, Draco made an elaborate bow over her hand and kissed it. "Hope you had fun, Red," he said.

"I did," she admitted. She yawned and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she muttered. "It's not that you're boring, it's just - "

"I'm tired too," he said. "See you tomorrow?"

Before she went to bed she pulled out the diary. _I had a great time,_ she wrote.

 _How was Blaise at kissing?_ Tom asked, rather snidely in her opinion.

 _I don't think I like kissing,_ she admitted. _It's wet and the bit where he wants to put his tongue in my mouth is gross._

 _Goose_ , Tom wrote back. _I'd kiss you myself to show you it's not all bad, or won't be when the boy in question isn't an idiot, but that is not possible._

 _I might get the wrong idea anyway,_ she said.

 _You're too smart for that_ , he said. He drew a pair of lips and, with a laugh, she kissed them.

 _Goodnight, Tom_ , she said, and closed the book up and put it away.

. . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - Thank you to my marvelous and incredible beta reader, turbulenthandholding. She's a gift._**


	18. Chapter 18 - Daring Ideas

"Is Victor Krum's really the Gryffindor swot?" Draco sounded disgusted. "International Quidditch star and the person he most fears to lose is _Granger_?"

They'd all settled into the stands to watch what was proving to be a very dull event. The four champions in the poorly named Twiwizard Tournment had to rescue someone from the lake. No one in the audience could see what was going on so it hadn't taken long for restless and bored students to start gossiping.

"Isn't he a little _old_ for her?" Daphne asked. "He's practically an adult and she's our age. A little gross if you ask me."

"A little pathetic if you ask me," Blaise said. He had his arm around Ginny in a possessive gesture she wasn't sure she liked. The discussion of the age gap between that Granger girl and Victor Krum made her think uncomfortable thoughts about Tom. Seventeen, twenty, seventy: however old he was, it was older than her.

"I'm sure he really likes her," she said. She felt sad for Krum, really. How lonely he must be if he didn't have a single family member that meant more to him than a girl he'd just met that year.

"True love knows no age limit," Luna said.

"I'd do him," Pansy said. They all looked at her, aghast. "What?" she demanded. "It's _Victor Krum_. Don't even sit there, Daphne, and pretend you wouldn't shag him."

"I'm _fourteen,"_ Daphne said. " _You're_ fourteen." She snuggled back into Greg Goyle, who was her current beau, and glared at Pansy. Greg looked as if he were trying to hide his disappointment that Daphne had opinions on whether it was appropriate for her to have sex but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

Pansy shrugged. "Don't see why he's after Granger. Even aside from how boring she is, she's an ugly thing and he could have any girl he wanted."

"It's pathetic," Theo said. Luna made an inconclusive noise and asked Ginny about a spell they'd been working on and the subject was changed and until the champions emerged from the water, dragging bodies behind them, the group talked about the ethics of some of the charms they'd been using. Theo and Draco argued with what they considered daring that there shoudl be a reduction on restrictions in using the Dark Arts while the others in their House looked on with shocked excitement.

"My dad says it's a crime the way the Ministry tries to control everything," Draco said.

"I thought your dad controlled the Ministry," Daphne said.

Draco wavered between looking pleased at that assessment and wanting to argue with her. He settled on, "He has a lot of influence but not enough for that."

Ginny turned her attention back to the lake. Tom had long since convinced her that magic just was. It had no inherent good or evil to it. _It's just power_ , _Ginevra_ , he's said until she believed him. _And you aren't too weak to take it, unlike most of the fools around you. Unlike your family. Unlike those girls who share your room. You'll burn with power and they'll all wish they'd cultivated you when they had the chance._

Sweet words.

"Don't you agree, Red?" Theo asked her. She hadn't been listening so she just shrugged. "It's all the same," she said.

"Even Unforgivables?" Pansy asked.

Ginny realized she'd probably said too much. She flashed a quick, apologetic smile at Theo and admitted she hadn't really heard what he'd said. When he repeated that even the worst curses should be allowed in the right circumstances, she looked over at Pansy, who was watching her with caution and figured she might as well see what happened. "Sure," she said. "I mean, you shouldn't go torturing someone just because she made you mad, but I'm sure there are times when it would be the right choice."

Pansy sucked in her breath and looked from Theo to Draco. That was daring stuff indeed. Theo just ruffled her hair. "That's our Red," he said.

 _Tom_ , she asked later. _Have you ever used the Cruciatus Curse on someone?_

 _Getting curious about dark things?_ he responded too enigmatically for her taste. _Have your roommates been difficult again?_

They had, though they tended to be subtler than they had in first year. Ginny could be scary and they weren't quite sure how far they could push her.

 _We were talking about it at the boring contest thing,_ Ginny wrote.

There was a long pause.

 _Have you?_ she asked again

 _Yes,_ he said at last. _Many times._

She stared at the words, not sure what to think. Her whole life it had been obvious that Unforgivable Curses were just that: unforgivable. They were a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Even that weird Mad-Eye Moody, this year's entry in the endlessly changing roster of Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, said that they were terrible things, and he liked to demonstrate them in class. He demonstrated them on animals, of course, but, still, he said they were terrible. Unforgivable. It wasn't every day your best friend admitted to doing them.

 _They're useful,_ he added when she didn't say anything. _Fear is useful. People betray the ones they love all the time but fear keeps them coming back. Fear keeps people in line._

 _Should I fear you?_

 _No._ He didn't say anything more a moment. _Let me in and I'll show you how to do it. We'll need something. One of your roommates?_

 _Tom!_ She almost giggled between the nerves and the idea. _We can't just torture my roommates._

 _Let me in_ , he wrote again, and she did. She splayed her fingers over the diary and permitted him into her soul and he slipped through the cracks and settled down. They didn't do this often. She always felt bereft after he left, as though she'd lost a bit of herself back into the book, but it had long ago proved the best way for him to teach so she endured the later feeling of loss for the usefulness of having him there. He'd stand inside her, as if he were wearing a Ginny dress, and they overlapped.

 _Ginevra_ , he said with satisfaction, the words soft in her mind. _Let's go find a victim since your wretched roommates aren't allowed._

They walked through the common room, her bag slung over their shoulder. When their eyes caught on Draco's distinctive blond hair, now that she knew to look for it, Ginny could feel a twinge in Tom. Draco raised a hand and waved but didn't get up from the table where he was working on homework and Tom made some kind of internal grimace she thought an unverbalized question at. _He just looks very similar,_ Tom said. _It's a bit of a shock, is all. Let's go hurt someone._

 _Something,_ she corrected him.

 _If you prefer._

. . . . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - Endless thanks are not enough for turbulenthandholding, who reads this for me and keeps me going. She beta read the first version. All the new typos are, of course, mea culpa._**


	19. Chapter 19 - A Walk in the Woods

_Think of it as someone you don't like,_ Tom suggested. _One of your brothers, maybe._ The unfortunate bird he'd lured over and demonstrated the cruciatus on lay stunned on the tree stump at the edge of the Forbidden Forest as Ginny pointed her wand at it and tried to torture it for the sixth time. She didn't seem to have a knack for this. Another attempt, another failure. By now she was quite cold and that added to her general sense of misery and ill-usage.

She shoved her wand into her pocked in frustration. _I don't think I can do this_ , she thought at him.

She suspected he could feel how sullen she was though he didn't say anything about it. He nudged her aside, took the body over, and sat down in a spot they'd cleared of snow, his back leaning against the rotting wood, and closed his eyes. _You don't have to_ , he said at last. _If you needed to do it, you could just use me_.

 _I want to,_ she said.

 _You don't. Not really. If you meant it, if you really wanted it, it would happen._

Ginny thought about the bird, lying behind their head, struggling to breathe. She didn't want to hurt it, he was right. It was just a stupid little snow bunting that hadn't ever done anything to anyone. But if she couldn't use the spell against a dumb animal how would she ever be able to use it for real? She'd have crossed her arms in an adolescent sulk if Tom didn't have control of the body. She was going to insist he give it back to her when she heard the crack of a stick, then another one, and finally the laughter of a group of students coming out to the edge of the allowable area to have some kind of not-exactly-illicit gathering.

She realized he had slipped back and was letting her steer when she buried her face in her hands. She knew the sound of that laughter. Some of her year mates, roommates, least favorite people, along with a handful of their friends from other Houses and younger students, had come out this way. Maybe if she was very lucky she'd be able to sneak back to the castle without being seen or having to endure their knife twists of their false compliments.

"It was so romantic," one of them was saying. "First he asks her to the Yule Ball and then she was the person he most feared to lose."

A round of sighing giggles greeted that statement and Ginny sighed. Stupid Victor Krum. Every girl in school wanted Victor Krum to be as madly in love with her as he seemed to be with stupid Granger. Even her own friends seemed to lose their minds at the sight of the Bulgarian.

 _If it's any consolation_ , Tom thought at her, _he's not my type either._

She had to put a hand over her mouth to hold in a giggle of her own at that. The idea of beautiful Tom Riddle, whose mind stuttered at the sight of her very own, ridiculous Draco, going daft over Krum was too absurd. She could feel his satisfaction that he'd distracted her from the wallow she'd been about to have over the way she hadn't been invited to this little party - not that she'd have wanted to go, of course - and they would have slipped away but the little ringleted ring-leader said in her snippy little voice, "At least he didn't pick that awful Weasley girl. Granger's smart and pretty and I can see why - "

"Right?" another voice chimed in. "I know it's not quite the done thing to admire her because she's such a swot and all, but she's top-drawer."

"But Ginny Weasley?" The self-appointed leader of the third-year girls asked in contempt. "I'd have wanted to die if he'd picked her."

"She's such a suck-up," someone said.

"There's something off about her," their leader said. "She's dodgy."

Ginny's hand crept to her pocket and pulled out her wand and she moved with the silence only the littlest sister of unkind brothers could manage as she stood and slipped behind a tree to spy on the gathering. They'd spread a blanket out and were passing around warm butterbeers and candies along with their gossip. It was trivial to point the wand at the girl she hated. Trivial to whisper the spell. A pleasure to watch the girl gasp and clutch at her chest, the mug of beer dropped. The foam and golden beer soaked into a circle around her as she let out a sharp cry of pain.

"What is it, what's the matter," her friends were crying as they gathered around her. The hubbub of their concern hid Ginny's slow retreat. Once she was far enough away, she began to sprint back to the castle, her wand in her hand.

 _You did it,_ Tom said as she pushed the door open and ducked into the warm, stone shelter. The wind had picked up and all traces of her passage to the edge of the Forest and back were disappearing in a swirl of white.

She stomped her feet to get the snow off as Blaise Zabini rounded a corner. "Why were you outside in this?" he demanded.

"Just wanted to get away from the endless fawning on Krum," she said. "Went for a walk. It wasn't this bad out when I left."

Blaise slung an arm around her shoulders and she could feel Tom sigh as the boy began walking her back to the dungeons. He was nattering on about how the next task in the Tournament wouldn't be so boring, and did she have summer plans yet because his mum had a villa in Italy he was planning on inviting all his chums to, but he knew her parents could be weird and he didn't want her to be left out.

 _For the love of Salazar, kiss this one if you must, but don't shag him_ , Tom muttered in her head. _His mummy's villa, indeed. Inviting everyone but wants to be sure you can make it. Could he be any more transparent?_

"We're all going to an empty classroom to drink something Pansy smuggled in," Blaise said. "You coming?"

"Just let me go to my room first," Ginny said. "I need to put something away."


	20. Chapter 20 - The Revelation

Ginny leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and looked at the hedge. "That's it?" she asked. "We're just going to stare at some shrubbery for a bit?"

Yet again, the contest seemed designed to bore spectators silly. They sat and watched the Champions head off into a maze, waving jaunty hands at the crowds, and then there was nothing. There was nothing for a really long time. Bursts of light would get the crowd briefly excited, but even the alert that someone needed to be rescued turned out to be dull. Victor Krum was duly saved, taken off to a tent, and that was it, and they were back to waiting.

Pansy had brought a bottle of nail polish and, with a dismissive gesture toward the third part of the Twi-wizard Tournament, demanded Ginny hold her hand out. Blaise made a show of wrinkling his nose at the smell, and Pansy suggested since he was so effete he could go fetch them iced drinks, which resulted in him stomping off to see what he could find. Satisfied with that encounter, Pansy began painting Ginny's nails silver. "Such a brat," she said. "I don't know what you see in him."

"He's fit," Ginny said.

"He is that," Pansy agreed.

Draco grumbled, and Theo disappeared down the stairs, probably to find Luna, and Greg picked at a splinter lodged in his thumb as they waited for more of the nothing to happen. "Think Potter will win again?" Pansy asked as she turned her attention to Ginny's second hand.

Draco's grumbled grew louder and Ginny laughed. "Why do you let him upset you so much?" she asked. She nudged Draco with her foot. "He's just some random git who got in the way of a curse gone wrong."

"He defeated the Dark Lord," Draco said, though his tone was cautious.

"He was one," Ginny said. "Whatever happened, he didn't have anything to do with it."

Daphne sucked in her breath at that and looked around. Greg hunched his shoulders. Even Pansy looked nervous. Draco, however, let out a grating laugh. "Yeah," he said. "That's right. He was soiling his nappies, just like the rest of us."

"I wonder what really happened," Ginny said. She knew she was echoing Tom, who quizzed her about Harry Potter now and then. He seemed fascinated that her brother's friend had managed to defeat a Dark wizard, and determined to work out how. His current theory was that Voldemort had actually been trying to hit someone else, thus the way Potter had survived, and that the Dark Lord himself been a victim of his own rebounded curse, had apparated away, and was lying around somewhere, recovering.

 _No body means he's not gone, Ginevra_ , Tom had written. _Your Boy Who Lived was not the only one to survive whatever happened._

 _You can't be sure of that_ , she'd written back with a sniff.

 _I can promise you that Lord Voldemort is not dead,_ Tom had insisted. _I just wonder where he is, and when he'll return._

 _Like a bad knut_.

 _If you insist on putting it that way, fine._

He'd been sullen after that, and she'd shut the diary up and gone to find Blaise, who'd been more than happy to distract her from the aggravations caused by arguing with a boy in a diary who thought he knew things.

"Who cares what happened," Draco said. "Harry Potter saved us all." His tone twisted the words into complexities that Ginny couldn't unravel. Was he happy Voldemort had disappeared? Sad? Resentful? She knew his parents had claimed to have repudiated the whole movement, knew her parents didn't believe the disavowal. He and Theo tended to hold up their Death Eater fathers as status symbols within Slytherin, but she didn't think they really knew any more about the philosophy behind the movement than she did.

Maybe less.

"Saved us to sit though this delightful event," Pansy said. "And we're all grateful, I'm sure."

"If he did come back," Ginny began, but her tentative line of questioning was cut off when it was Potter who came back, appearing on the pitch below them with someone clutched in his arms. The next twenty minutes were chaos. Potter was screaming that Voldemort was back, spectators trampled one another as they fled, and Cedric Diggory's father recognized his son and burst onto the pitch, his wails drowning out the attempts by Headmaster Dumbledore to calm the situation.

"Get out," Pansy snapped, her nail polish abandoned. She shoved at her friends, and they all began stumbling out of the stands, back to the perceived safety of their dormitory. Ginny flung herself at Blaise when they met him, halfway back to the castle, a pitcher in his hands. She was crying and she knew she had to look atrocious, her eyes red and her face flushed, silver paint smeared over her hands. Blaise looked behind her at the crowds, grabbed her, and began pulling her toward the door even more quickly.

When they finally stopped, panting, inside the dungeon, Ginny was shaking and her chest hurt from fear and adrenaline, but she shook off her friends to go yank the diary out of her top drawer. The vehemence of her quill stabbing at the page almost tore the paper.

 _How did you know?_

 _I'm going to need a little context here, Ginevra_ , the words read, looping into graceful appearance.

 _How did you know he'd come back?_

 _Lord Voldemort?_

 _Got it in one_. The point of her quill jabbed at the page. _You knew_.

There was no pause, no hesitation. _Lord Voldemort cannot die, Ginevra. He has made things called horcruxes that hold bits of his soul so, unless those were all to be destroyed, he will live forever._

 _How do you know that?_ she demanded, though she already had a horrible feeling she knew the answer. Everything seemed to fall into place. How this bit of magic worked. Why Tom Riddle had disappeared after leaving Hogwarts. He'd done quite a bit better at taking over the world, even without Abraxas at his side, than she'd imagined, even if it seemed he hadn't managed it in the end. _How can you know that_?

 _I know because I am one of them._

She threw the diary across the room.


	21. Chapter 21 - A Proposal

She couldn't sleep.

Not that she was alone in that. People drifted in and out of the common room all night and more than one bottle was passed around. No one knew quite what to think. Were they supposed to be happy Lord Voldemort had returned? Were their parents? Was it even true? People would open their mouths and start to say something, then lapse back into uncomfortable silence. For a while, Ginny sat with Blaise, his arm wrapped around her. Pansy and Daphne had tucked their arms around one another and huddled together. Theo appeared, paler than he usually was, later than any of them would have liked. "Luna's fine," was all he said, and they nodded, and Blaise passed over the fire whiskey he'd pulled out of a hiding place in his room.

When Blaise went to bed, she moved to Draco's side and they sat together in silence on one of the green leather couches and watched the fish swim by in the murky depths of the lake. "They're pretty," he said after a while, pointing at one of the silvery shapes as it caught some bit of moonlight and sparkled for a moment.

"They are," she agreed. They didn't speak again after that until Draco muttered he was going to try to sleep and maybe she should too. She nodded and went back to sit on her mattress. One of her roommates had picked her diary - Tom's diary - up off the floor where she'd left it and set it at the foot of her bed.

No, she thought, looking at it. Not _Tom's_ diary. _Lord Voldemort's diary._

She thought she would be sick.

She changed into her nightgown, and went down the hall to brush her teeth. Every step felt wooden. She was in a nightmare. She'd been talking to Lord Voldemort for three years. She'd told him everything. She'd talked about kissing Blaise, she'd talked about kissing Draco.

She'd taken his advice.

She'd had the tiniest of crushes on him until she found out about Abraxas.

Maybe not the tiniest. She'd spent hours searching for his photograph, she'd tried to find out what had happened to him. She'd had fantasies about the clever boy who always knew what to say, her best friend, the person she'd trusted above all others.

She walked back from to her room, put her toothbrush away, lay down on her bed in the dark and stared up at the ceiling. The green drapes folded over her bed, closing her into a private world. She'd been thankful for that before, glad to shut herself away from the roommates who saw her as the poor girl from a disgraceful family, unfathomably popular with older boys. She'd been thankful to talk to someone who understood, who'd been the poor one in Slytherin once. She'd had so many things in common with the clever, ambitious boy who'd wanted more than the path his childhood had laid out for him.

Who'd gone on to start a war.

She closed her eyes and her brain started talking to Tom. She yelled at him in her head as if he were there and could hear her. She asked why. She told him off for not telling her the truth about who he was, about _what_ he was. She wanted him to tell her it would be okay. That the return of a monster didn't mean everyone she loved would die, would be hurt, would be whatever it was they were all so scared of they couldn't even speak. She wanted to ask him what to do. That was the worst of it; she still wanted him to be her friend.

She turned onto one side and tucked an arm under her head. Why couldn't she sleep?

She turned the other way and shifted her feet. One of them brushed against the diary, still on her bed, and she lunged toward it, intending to rip into shreds, but the paper wouldn't tear. When she cast a lumos, her name was written all over the page she was holding in her hands.

 _Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Ginny._

She wanted to scream but instead found a quill in her hand, summoned by magic she hadn't even intended, and she was writing.

 _WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY_

When she stopped to wipe the tears away from her eyes, all the words disappeared, and in their place a single sentence. _I didn't want to ever die._

She blinked at those plain words.

 _It's simple, really, Ginevra. You do murder to split your soul and when you've torn the very nature of your humanity, you push the second bit into an object. Because a piece of his soul is me, Lord Voldemort cannot die._

Ginny stabbed at the paper. _You're a monster. You're evil_.

 _There is no evil. You know that. We've talked about this. There is only power and those too weak to take it._

She shook her head in the dim light of her canopied bed. _There is evil_ , she wrote. _Lord Voldemort is evil._ She couldn't quite bring herself to write _you_ are evil.

 _Don't you want to live forever_?

The words seemed surreal. They were out of nowhere. They were horrifying. She tightened her grip on her quill, meaning to write no, not at the cost of murder, but instead she wrote what she thought would be crueler. Cruelest. _It isn't you who lives forever, Tom. Not you, no. You're just a diary. When I close you up, you'll stop again. You'll be nothing. NOTHING. It's your other self who doesn't die. You're nothing but a tool to keep someone else alive. You'll never rule the world. He might, but you never will. Never. Never rule. Not you. Never._

She stopped writing, almost panting in her fury, and waited for him to respond. The diary stilled and no words appeared until she couldn't stand it any longer, until she was about to write more, but the moment she touched her quill to the parchment her name appeared again, over and over again, as if Tom had gone mad and she shivered at the way the ink even spattered around her names and _ginny ginny ginny_ filled up page after page.

At last all the words disappeared and, one slow letter at a time, a new sentence appeared.

 _You are correct._

She sucked in her breath at that acknowledgement.

 _Unless you help me._


	22. Chapter 22 - On the Train

If the rest of the school year was horrible, the train ride managed to be worse. Draco and Harry snapped at one another as they got on, and that set Draco off onto one of his spiels about _Potter this_ and _Potter that_. Even sweet wrappers thrown at him wouldn't make him stop. Ginny itched to drag her diary out and complain. Things were off the rails and Draco was still caught up in his stupid competition with Harry Potter.

Maybe it made him feel safer to whinge about something petty.

Nothing made her feel safer. Nothing would until this was over.

"Excuse me," she said, and stood up. Blaise had his feet thrust out, tiny compartment or no he liked to look as long as possible,and she had to step over them. She tripped a little when the train swayed and then swore as she fell against the door. "Gotta go."

"And to think you're poetry on a broom," Pansy said.

Ginny flicked a V at her and headed down the narrow corridor. When she reached the Gryffindors, easily identified by how loud they were, Ginny pushed open the door to the train compartment and eyed her brother. "Get out," she said.

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger looked at one another as Ron straightened up from where he'd been slouched on the seat, shoving candy beans into his mouth. "Get lost, snake," he said. "No one wants you here."

Ginny didn't even other pulling out her wand. All those years of Tom's tutelage had been good for something, and that something was her magic. Her bat-bogey hex had Ron batting at his nose and glaring at her, but it didn't get him to leave, so she just stepped into the compartment, used a good magical shove to remove him, and shut the door. Locking it was trivial, and Ron was left out in the corridor, pounding on the door. He'd probably tell their mum, and she'd probably be grounded. It didn't matter, this was more important. _And grounded from what_ , a voice whispered. _It's not like you get to do anything at home anyway._

Ginny ignored the traitorous murmurings of her own mind to study the Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and his unpleasant, know-it-all sidekick. She wondered if they thought about dating, but decided that was too gross a concept to pursue.

"How did you do that?" Hermione Granger asked, a hint of avarice in her ruffed tones. "That was wandless and voiceless."

Ginny looked at the Gryffindor with distaste. "It's amazing what you can accomplish when you try harder," she said, just to enjoy twisting the knife a little. It wasn't true, of course. No one tried as hard as Hermione Granger. She just didn't have the advantage of Tom Riddle as a personal tutor.

Of Lord Voldmort.

Things, Ginny thought, that were even grosser than the idea of Granger and Potter kissing. She was Lord Voldemort's private student. Worse, she liked him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked. "Here to gloat about poor, unstable Potter?"

She looked at him. Messy hair. Glasses askew. He didn't look special but somehow he was. She wanted to quiz him at length on what he'd seen, ask him what Voldemort was like. She doubted that would go over well. People would be suspicious of the girl who wanted to know too much, who seemed too interested in the return of the Dark Lord. Better to keep her head down. That was something else Tom had tried to teach her.

"People will," Ginny said. "Some already are. They're saying Dumbledore has an agenda of his own, he's after power, and he's using a boy with a questionable past to further it. An unstable boy, like you said." She settled down on the seat, brushing Ron's spilled Every-Flavour beans to the floor. "Some people say you like the attention."

"And you agree," Hermione said.

Ginny looked at Hermione and wondered what it was about the girl that so captivated some people. She was plain, and socially inept, and pushy. "No," she said, drawling the word out into an insult. "Because, unlike some people, I happen to know you're telling the truth. He's back."

Harry and Hermione both stilled at that. "And I suppose you're happy about it, like Malfoy," Harry said. "I saw his dad, by the way. Be sure to ask him how that old mask fits when you go to your party at their house this summer. I'd hate for him to be uncomfortable while he's out killing people."

"Could you be any stupider?" Ginny asked, though she filed away what he told her. Draco's father had been there, which meant Theo's had as well, and Greg's. They hadn't admitted that to her, though maybe they hadn't known. Maybe they were ashamed. If they'd been proud of it, they'd have have shut up about it.

It didn't matter. She couldn't turn to any of them for help, couldn't risk them. Harry Potter, however, she'd use.

She took a deep breath. "I want your help killing Voldemort."

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at her. "I beg your pardon," he said at last.

"There's something about you," she said. "He vanished after trying to kill you. He comes back and what he wants is you. He's obsessed with _you_ for whatever reason, and, with magic, that usually means something."

Annoyingly obsessed, she thought. She should have keyed into how odd that obsession was earlier.

"Just how do you suggest I go about killing a resurrected monster?" Harry asked. Ginny looked at him. She'd had a crush on this boy. That amazed her. He was sarcastic and defensive and not even especially fit, but at ten she'd thought of nothing but the hero Harry Potter.

"You can't kill him," she said.

"This conversation is getting less and less useful," Harry said. "Go away, Weasley."

"He has horcruxes," Ginny said. Harry shook his head in confusion but Hermione's eyes flickered just a little and Ginny knew she had her. Horrible girl, but a tool was a tool, as Tom would say. "Go figure it out over the summer," she said. "Do a little reading. We have to destroy them first, then we can get him."

"How do you know that," Hermione demanded.

"Does it really matter?" Ginny asked. She pictured telling him she'd been talking to the teenage version of Voldemort for years. She'd bet Granger would look scandalized and appalled. Salazar, she was the dullest person imaginable, all rules and homework all the time. Potter would probably just blink at her in confusion.

"What are they teaching you in Slytherin?" dull, rule-abiding Granger demanded.

Ginny opened the door and Ron came tumbling back in. "I'm not going to betray my House to you," she said as she prepared to go. "But some things are just a little more important than House rivalry, don't you think?"

"I'm surprised you care about any of this given how you're just fine with the Malfoys despite that pesky little problem of them being in the pocket of You-Know-Who," Ron said. He'd clearly been listening at the door.

She might have let that door slam a little harder than was necessary.

When she got back to her own friends, Blaise let her lay down with her head on his knee and ran his fingers through her hair. "Long trip to the toilet," he said. "I got you a candy quill to suck on, but I was about to eat it myself you were gone so long."

"I assumed you didn't want details," Ginny said, "but if you do, I can share. How much interest do you have in the female menstrual cycle?"

Pansy snickered and Blaise muttered that it was okay.

It's not, though, Ginny thought to herself. Nothing is okay.


	23. Chapter 23 - Ginny's Birthday Party

Ginny took the slice of cake Narcissa handed her. Her birthday party had been tense this year. Her parents had tried to insist she couldn't go, that with 'you-know-who' back, and with the Malfoys well-known supporters, it was too dangerous.

"Unless you plan on signing up," Fred had said.

"Which wouldn't surprise me," George added.

Molly Weasley had reached a hand out to smack one of her twins on the back of the head but he'd danced out of reach. Whether they'd meant to or not, however, the pair had ensured Ginny would be permitted to go visit her friends. The outrageous suggestion that any child of hers would join up with any Dark lord stiffened Molly Weasley's spine. She read her boys the riot act. Of course Ginny was friends with children in her Hogwarts House, she'd said. Maybe her influence would help keep some of those children _from_ joining up with whatever had come out of that cauldron, and it wasn't like they were going to hurt a child at her own birthday party.

And so Ginny stood in one of the back gardens of Malfoy Manor, a cluster of equally nervous friends holding plates of cake around her. Wherever the adult version of Tom was, it wasn't here, but the suave and endlessly amused Narcissa Malfoy had been replaced by a brittle woman whose smile was too tight. Because no one knew what to say, and the subject everyone was thinking about most was unmentionable, they began talking about the O.W.L.s most of them would have to take the following year. Ginny became more and more bored.

Blaise nudged her. "Sorry," he said. "I'm sure questions about what's on the Defense Against the Dark Arts test aren't that interesting to you yet."

She gave him a pained smile. Poor choice of subjects, Blaise, she thought. "At least I'm not going to go for an O.W.L. in Divination," she said.

"You don't think dear Sybil 'I'll just have a nip from my tea cup' Trelawney is preparing people properly?" he asked.

Ginny tried to laugh. The way the Divination teacher was always drunk was an open joke in Slytherin. Today, however, surrounded by tense friends, nothing seemed funny. The air seemed charged and electric. She kept checking the sky for dark clouds, expecting to see a storm rolling in that would drench them all, knock shutters off the house, blow out all the lights. It was that kind of heavy feeling. But it wasn't the weather.

Blaise nudged her again and she resisted the urge to hit him. Was she not paying enough attention to him? "You seem a little distracted."

"I think I should get home," she said. She hated to leave. Really, truly hated it, and with the way things were she probably wouldn't get a chance to see anyone again until school started, but her skin almost itched with the currents in the air and she wanted to flee back to the safety of her room and the diary she could talk openly to.

Blaise's smile was as shuttered as her own eyes. "I'll see you on the train," he said. "It will be fine, Gin. We're all purebloods. That was the thing when… We'll be fine."

She nodded, thanked Narcissa again for the party before impulsively hugging her. The woman seemed startled for a moment, then squeezed back before holding Ginny at arm's length and looking her over. "I think of you very much as a daughter," she said. "If you ever needed a place to go, we would be happy to take you in."

Ginny hugged her again but her throat had closed up too much for her to speak. She shoved at Draco on her way to the Floo, and he shoved back. "Pest," he said. He grabbed at her hand and said, "See you on the train."

"Write me," she said. She tried to summon a look of childish petulance. "I'll be stuck with my family the rest of the summer. Not sure I'll make it without a few reminders I have friends."

Draco looked pleased and squeezed her hand. "I'll do that," he said.

When she climbed out of the Floo at The Burrow, Ginny had unkind thoughts about how much nicer Floo travel was when you had large fireplaces you could stand upright in. "Did you have fun?" her mother asked.

Ginny nodded. "Mrs. Malfoy always has good cake," she said, "and it was good to see my friends."

"That's nice," Molly said. "Dinner's in an hour. Go wash your face and then you can help me set the table."

Ginny glanced over at Fred and George, who were bent down over whatever illegal charm they were developing at the moment, and tried not to scowl. "Sure," she said. "Can I do something first?"

"Just be quick about it," Molly said before she went back to shredding carrots for the salad.

In her room, Ginny hesitated before opening the diary. The moment she touched the quill to the paper, words swirled into being.

 _Was he there?_

 _Were you there, do you mean?_

 _No_ , Tom wrote. _As you have been happy to point out, Lord Voldemort is the immortal one and I am the tool._

 _He wasn't there_ , she said. She didn't really want to see what the man looked like these days. The Ministry had already started a publicity rush insisting that everything was fine but she knew it wasn't. She knew a monster had been loosed. She was terrified that when she finally saw him - and she had no doubt that if she kept going to the Malfoy's she would see him - he would look like Tom. She could picture Tom so very clearly: dark hair, compelling eyes. People would die for Tom.

People had.

She'd found all the old stories of the first war. Her mother had been happy to dig up old copies of the _Prophet_ , sure her daughter was at last seeing the dangers of Slytherin and all her friends. Ginny had thanked her and laboriously copied the details into her diary.

 _Dorcas Meadowes_ , Tom had said. _I wonder what she did that I wanted to take care of her personally._ And _, Evan Rosier sounds like an idiot. Better to be taken in and live to fight another day than to go out like a hero._

Tom didn't think highly of heroics, not even the heroics of people who'd died for him.

She didn't want to look up across a room and see a handsome, adult version of Tom. She wasn't sure she'd be able to fight someone who looked like her best friend grown.

 _That's fine, then_ , Tom said. _That he wasn't there. You'll meet him eventually. I expect._

 _I need to go help with dinner_ , Ginny wrote. She closed the diary before she saw his last words.

 _I miss you, Ginevra. Come back to me._


	24. Chapter 24 - Another Year Starts

By the time she'd sat down at the Slytherin table for the opening night feast of her fourth year at Hogwarts, Ginny had gotten more than tired of Harry Potter. It wasn't that she didn't believe he'd fought off Dementors. She did. It wasn't even that she thought it shocking the Ministry had decided to put him on trial for the offense. As absurd as that was, she believed that too.

Spend enough time talking to Tom Riddle and you developed contempt for every power structure.

He just sucked all the air out of the room. Anywhere Harry Potter was, everything became all about him. Was he okay? Did he want another helping? Don't worry, everything will be fine. Hermione Granger fluttered and fussed around him as if he were doomed and she was trying to hard to reassure him. Ginny wondered if the idiot girl realized she just made the object of her obsessive attention even more nervous. She doubted it. Social awareness didn't seem to be Granger's strength.

Research, however, the know-it-all could do, and she had. She cornered Ginny in the hall one night after dinner that summer and said, "If what you say is true – "

"It is," Ginny said, bored.

" – though how you know that, I don't want to know – "

Liar, Ginny thought. You are dying to figure out how I know about the horcruxes, but I'm not planning on telling you I know because I own one of them.

" – but it does make sense, given his resurrection."

"Right," Ginny said. She tried to push past the girl to go back to her own room before one of her brothers appeared with a stinging hex just for fun.

"Do you have any idea what they are? Because just randomly groping about for whatever old hat or cloak-pin You-Know-Who turned into –"

"It wouldn't be an old hat," Ginny said, cutting her off. "I don't know, but I've got some ideas. I'll give you a list."

And she had, shoving it into the girl's hand the day Harry Potter was found not guilty of underage magic use and the whole family celebrated. Tom didn't know what his later self had selected, but he knew the kinds of things he'd been considering at sixteen. Objects special to the Founders, such as Godric's Sword, Helga's Cup, and the Ravenclaw Diadem. Anything connected to Slytherin: family heirlooms or anything that had belonged to the Founder Tom still had a bit of a hard-on for, much to Ginny's annoyance. Plus, any schoolboy items of his own he'd been especially attached to. The diary, of course, but when Ginny suggested the trophy he'd been awarded for Special Services to Hogwarts, Tom had agreed that seemed like a good choice too. Perhaps his wand, he'd suggested.

"How're we supposed to get his wand?" Hermione demanded as she skimmed the list.

"Maybe we could start with the easier things," Ginny said.

Merlin, she hated that girl, and her brother and the way he fawned on her as though she were the only clever girl he'd ever met. Of course, when Ginny considered the Gryffindors, she admitted to herself with a bit of pleased malice that it might be true. Ron might not know any other girls who could reason or think.

On the train, Draco had been his usual, annoying self about Potter. All he wanted to talk about was what he'd heard from his father about Potter's hearing at the Ministry until, fed up, Ginny had said, "We're all sick of hearing how worried you were about your boyfriend, Draco."

Blaise had snickered, Pansy grinned, and Draco had sulked in silence for the rest of the train ride.

All of which led to a Ginny Weasley who didn't ever want to hear the name, "Harry Potter" again. She dished up her plate at the Opening Feast and pretended to care about the Sorting as she and Blaise held hands and teased Theo. When the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher stood up and, with a little cough, insisted on giving a long-winded speech, Ginny barely paid attention. Every year there was a new one of these. They were all terrible. She didn't expect this one to be any better.

"Her jumper," Pansy said, leaning across the table. "Can you imagine?"

Ginny looked at the pink knitwear and made a face. "I don't have to. It's right there, hurting my eyes."

"Do you see the look on Snape's face?" Pansy said. "Last time I saw him look that way was when he had to try to teach dancing."

Ginny glanced up at Snape. He did look as if he'd swallowed a bug and was analyzing whether it tasted more like fly or more like spider.

"I wonder what Potter's – ". Draco began.

"Shut UP," Ginny and Pansy said in unison.

 _Honestly_ , Ginny wrote later. _All anyone can talk about is Potter, Potter, Potter._

 _He should have died_ , Tom replied. _I want to know how he did it._

 _He was a baby,_ Ginny wrote. _He didn't do anything. He was just in the right place at the right time when someone else did something._

 _Someone who_?

 _Someone who is probably dead._ Ginny really didn't care. She wanted to find the other six horcruxes – Tom had been fairly sure there would be seven total because he'd latched onto the idea of seven as being the most powerful magical number – and destroy them. _Maybe his mother. I don't know. Does it matter?_

 _Probably not_ , Tom admitted. He moved on to the practical topic that dominated their conversations these days. _Do you want to try to find the diadem tomorrow_?

Ginny didn't. Not really. Not considering what she knew she'd have to do to make the project practical. But she was going to anyway. _Yes_ , she wrote. _That's fine. I have the afternoon free on my schedule._

 _Good,_ Tom said.

 _Good,_ she agreed.

 _Ginny,_ he began, but she slammed the book shut. She didn't want to hear it from him. She'd talk to him about how to kill the monster and nothing else. He didn't deserve anything else. Let him rot in that diary.

Until he had to come out to solve problems, but she'd think about that when she had to. She shoved the diary into her top drawer, turned her light out, and slammed her head down onto her pillow. This year was going to be just awful.

. . . . . . . . . .

 **A/N - Happy July 4**


	25. Chapter 25 - Finding Lost Items

_You just need to concentrate very hard on how what you need to do is find the diadem_ , Tom thought.

Ginny squirmed away from having his thoughts back in her head. She had set her hand on the diary and let him slither back inside her so he rested against her very soul, so he dripped down into every crevice of her being, and she had told herself it was because she needed to do this. This was necessary to defeat Voldemort. She locked away every thought she had about how comforting and familiar it was to have him back with her, part of her, closer to her than any friend could ever be, closer than any lover would ever be.

 _It's an empty wall_ , she thought. _Just an empty wall opposite a very ugly tapestry._

 _Do it_ , Tom said, _or I will._

She pushed away the threat implicit in that thought and focused instead on how very, very much she needed to find Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. It was urgent. It was crucial. It would help to save the world.

An unremarkable door shimmered into existence in the wall and, as used as she was to magic, Ginny still gasped in wonder.

 _Open it_ , Tom said. He seemed less impressed.

She put her hand on the doorknob and let herself into a room filled with more junk and she'd ever seen in her life. There were shelves filled with old books and forgotten relics. There were tables piled high with brooms and lost jumpers and things she couldn't even identify. On a shelf near the door she saw a bust of some ancient wizard, and on that wizard sat a diadem.

If Tom had had breath to suck in, he would have sucked his in. She could feel the thrill that rushed through him at the sight of the legendary object. She picked the jeweled crown up and ran her thumb over the large sapphire set in the center. "This is magnificent," she said out loud. "Do you think it's one?"

She hated the idea of having to destroy something so beautiful.

 _It seems likely_ , Tom thought at her. She'd never felt such raw lust in anything he'd ever thought or written to her before; she'd never felt so uncomfortably in agreement with Tom since she'd realized who he was. She coveted this crown in a way that made her desire for the kind of pretty clothes Narcissa Malfoy bought her seem like nothing. She understood as she held it how 'coveting' was different from 'wanting' and, oh, how she coveted. The force of that desire made her hand shake as she dropped the diadem into the bag she'd brought with her.

She turned to go and realized she couldn't. Her mouth opened without her volition and said, "Accio dagger."

She fought in vain to regain control of her body as Tom's summoning charm brought dozens of daggers towards her. They came, pulled out of cupboards and off shelves, to slide across the room and clatter along the stones of the floor until they gathered in a pile at her feet. There were big daggers. There were short daggers. There were daggers so rusty she thought they would probably fall apart if she poked at them with her finger. She squatted down – or, rather, Tom squatted down – and began to sort through them. He selected two from the collected offerings. Both were relatively short, both were sharp, both had black handles. He hefted them in her hand and she could feel the satisfaction in his soul as he added them to the bag and turned, at last, to leave.

 _Long ago_ , he said to her, sounding like an erudite but arrogant lecturer, _magic wasn't done with wands and bad Latin. Long ago, people still used ritual knives to draw the circle, candles when they called the corners, and grimoires to keep track of such spells that worked, instead of neatly printed textbooks designed to standardize and neuter magic._

She settled down inside her own mind, sulking as he refused to give control back to her.

He seemed amused. _You need me to do the parseltongue anyway, Ginevra. Don't act like a petulant child._

And then they were there, in Myrtle's bathroom, and he was talking with the hisses that she couldn't understand and opening the passageway down to his monster. They went down, into the bowels of the school, and he summoned the basilisk. He spoke to it, and she shivered as he ran his hand along the creature's neck like a man pleased with a particularly skilled hunting dog.

The basilisk spit out a stream of foul, smoking liquid. _It's the venom_ , Tom thought at her. _One of the few things that destroys a horcrux. I made a point of researching their vulnerabilities._ He pulled out the two knives he'd selected and held the blades in the stream of venom, and then bathed them in the collected pool that was slowly eating its way into the floor. _I never thought, of course, that I would be the one making use of that information. I thought more to guard against it._

He pulled the daggers out, and seemed to hesitate for a moment before he handed the body back over to Ginny. _I confess_ , he thought her, _I am not completely sure that I can bring myself to destroy my own horcrux. I am going to have to ask you to do it._

Ginny gripped one of the daggers and slammed it down against the delicate metalwork of the crown. The filigree shattered, the sapphire rolled free, and the whole thing hissed as an acrid black smoke rose out of it. "No one will ever value for yourself, you know, Ginevra," is said. "Your family doesn't love you because you weren't in Gryffindor, and if you think that Tom is even capable of love, you're a fool.

She shivered and gave the crown one last hack with the knife before kicking it across the room. It slid across the floor and came to rest in the dissipating puddle of basilisk venom where it slowly dissolved into nothing.

Tom took her over again briefly to hiss something at the basilisk, which looked as pleased as a monstrous snake could ever look, Ginny supposed, before slithering back to wherever it stayed when not answering the summons of its lord and master.

 _Well done_ , Tom said to her. He relinquished control again and added, _One down, five to go._

 _Six,_ she said.

 _Right,_ he agreed. _Six things to destroy._


	26. Chapter 26 - A Conversation with Draco

Ginny hesitated before Tom slid back into the diary, one of the knives in her hand and the book out before her on her bed. _Planning to kill me?_ he asked.

She didn't respond, but she could feel him laughing at her anyway. _I know you've missed me_ , Tom said. _You've missed me as much as I've missed you._

 _Go to hell_ , she thought, but the sentiment was tired and without much force. She wondered how the bastard could possibly know she wouldn't slam her knife into the diary the moment he was safely out of her soul, and he laughed again.

 _You're a terrible occlumens, Ginevra_ , he thought. She didn't even know what that meant, and he didn't bother to explain. She'd look it up later. _And I may well be the best legilimens the world has ever known. I know you won't hurt me._

 _Not today, anyway,_ she admitted, and then he was gone, back into his cage, and she rubbed at her face before she shoved the diary back into a drawer and the daggers, surely forbidden by some rule of Hogwarts or other, under her knickers. She picked up one pair and sighed at it. The elastic was about to give out, and they had gone grey with too many washings. She folded the pair up with a little more precision than was needed and shut the drawer with a little more force.

What do you do after you destroy one Dark magic object and lose an argument with another? She knew she should settle down to do some of the reading that had already been assigned but instead she grabbed her broom and headed out to the pitch. She could fly some drills to clear her head.

Unfortunately, the pitch was already occupied, and by the worst people possible. How was it that the Gryffindor Quidditch team was _already_ practicing? That seemed insane and yet, there they were. She'd recognize the sounds of her brothers' mocking voices anywhere. She'd have left, gone back to her room, done her reading like a responsible student, if she didn't see a familiar blond head up in the Slytherin stands. She hiked up the winding stairs to settle down next to Draco Malfoy.

"I was going to fly," he said. "Start getting ready for this year's season."

"Me too," she said. She slouched on the bench. "Them too, looks like."

"Right," he said, and they sat in silence for a bit and watched the red and gold clad students dart and swirl around one another. The way Fred and George could work as a flawless team, as if they were reading one another's thoughts, made her life at home unpleasant, but she had to admit it made them incredible Quidditch players.

"Think we'll get the Cup this year?" Draco asked.

Ginny snorted. "If we were even close, Dumbledore would give Potter a thousand points for breathing, and they'd win again."

"I suppose." Draco stared out at the Pitch, his eyes tracking Harry Potter as he zoomed around. He said somewhat abruptly, "I wish you weren't dating Zabini."

Ginny turned to look at him, her hair flying around with the force of her movement. He shrugged, a half-aborted movement, as if to say it didn't matter. "You are, though."

She nodded and opened her mouth to say she didn't have to be, she could be not, if that was something he wanted to pursue, but before she could speak he said, "Have you ever had a secret that you were afraid to tell?"

Ginny let out a bit of a laugh at that. "Yeah," she said.

"You think no one would like you if they knew?"

"Yeah," she said again. Draco had gone back to following the movements of the Quidditch players. She tried to imagine telling Draco about what she'd done that afternoon and just couldn't. She tried to imagine telling him about Tom, and was lost there too. Some things had to remain secrets.

"Is yours important?" Draco asked.

Ginny felt her throat close in tight misery. "Yes," she whispered. "It's pretty important."

"Mine isn't," Draco said. He kicked at the wooden floor of the stands for a bit. "I'll still have to do all the things a Malfoy does. It won't matter in the end. It's stupid to even think about it."

Ginny opened her mouth, then closed it again. 'If you really like Potter," she began.

Draco turned fierce eyes onto her. "I _don't_ ," he said. The words were too vehement to be true and she quirked her brows up, the well-understood sign among their friends for 'oh _really?'._ Draco flushed, then said, "He's a prat. He's just, he's compelling, you know? And he's also sort of safe because he's… I can look, you know? "

"He's not my type," she said. She took a deep breath. "But if he's yours, that's fine."

"You're my type, but you're taken," he said. "He's, maybe he's my type, but he's just safe to look at because he's impossible."

Ginny thought of all the impossible things she'd already done that day. "I think he's just a prat, like I said. Hardly impossible."

Draco picked up his broom. "Impossible for me," he said, and the words had the cadence of finality. "Want to fly?"

Ginny tipped her head toward the pitch. "Not with them out there," she said.

"We could just go to the edge of the Forest," he said. "Like we used to."

Ginny began to grin. She was already in the air by the time she said, "Race you," and they were off. She bent over her broom and felt the wind beat at her as she flew lower and faster. Her eyes watered and she already wished she'd tied her hair back – curse this long hair – but she didn't slow down. Draco was just a half a broom length behind her and it was clear he had no chivalrous plans to let her win. He bumped into her, a move she'd have assumed was a mistake from anyone else, and then pulled ahead as she faltered, knocked off her stride, and had to do a quick roll so she could recover. She pointed her broom up into the colder air and pushed herself as hard as she could, as if flying would erase her family and her fears and even her knowledge, as if flying could make her innocent again.

It couldn't, of course. She landed at the edge of the forest seconds after Draco, who was as red-faced and out of breath as she was. "Victory is mine," he said, raising a fist to the sky. She laughed and was about to call him a git and a hooligan when she made the mistake of looking directly into his grey eyes and her thudding heart pounded with even more fervor in her ears. He lowered his arm as she stared at him. He swallowed hard and she wondered how it was possible for someone to have eyes that pale, and hair that pale, and he was just so very, very pale. He interrupted those incoherent thoughts when he said, "We should go in."

"We should."

"Zabini is probably wondering where you are."

Ginny would normally have said she didn't have to clear her movements with any boyfriend, but she just nodded. They were careful not to make eye contact all the way back to the castle.


	27. Chapter 27 - Dolores Umbridge

Umbridge caught her with the trophy. Ginny had left Tom locked in his diary, made her way through the school to the display case with special award he'd won in service to the school, and hacked at it with one of her daggers. She'd successfully broken the rather poorly made trophy, but no black smoke poured out, no voice hissed her worst fears. It had just been a trophy.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Ginny spun, black-handled knife still in her hand, to face the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She already didn't care for Dolores Umbridge and they had been in school for less than a week. The pink-clad, simpering teacher condescended to a class of magical children, tsking that this material still had to be covered because of O.W.L.s and Ministry standards, but reassuring them that they didn't really ever need to worry about any of this other than to know when to call an Auror. "You'll never meet a Dark wizard," she'd said with a smile right before she assigned a heavy reading load and a pointless essay.

Ginny had kept her mouth shut. There wasn't anything to be gained by saying she was pretty sure she'd meet one at the Malfoys before long, and that was assuming you didn't want to count Tom as a Dark wizard just because he was a tad incorporeal.

Or her. She was probably technically a bit more of a Dark witch than wizard, though, and could you really be said to meet yourself?

"I said," Dolores Umbridge repeated, "what do you think you are doing, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny looked at the knife in her hand, and the battered, broken trophy on the floor, and tried to think quickly. This was going to be hard to explain. "Potter," she said when the woman tapped her foot expectantly. "He said there was a Dark spirit in this, a bit of You-Know-Who, and – "

"That boy," Umbridge said, her eyes becoming narrow slits in a face that looked far too pleased. "I would have thought a girl as sensible as you would know better than to listen to him."

"But he said," Ginny began, hiding her own satisfaction far better than Umbridge. The old toad had snatched the fly from the air with so much eagerness her cheeks bulged.

"He's a liar," Umbridge said. Her tones became more oily, "Or unwell."

"My parents – " Ginny said. Umbridge jumped toward the bait again.

"Your father isn't well thought of at the Ministry, dear. I wouldn't trust them, especially regarding Potter. They are… biased." Umbridge patted her on the arm and Ginny kept from pulling herself out of the woman's way. "But I think I can keep from telling them about this little incident since you came clean about poor Harry Potter."

"You… He won't get in trouble, will he?" Ginny asked.

Umbridge put her hand out and, after a moment, Ginny realized she was expected to hand over the dagger. Well, she supposed it would have been too much to be allowed to keep that. She passed it to the woman and Umbridge squinted at it. Ginny doubted she recognized the odd patterns the basilisk venom had left on the steel but being caught with a knife had to be bad enough.

"Ten points from Slytherin for having a weapon in school," Umbridge said. "And I recommend you stay away from young Mr. Potter."

"I don't want Harry to get in trouble," Ginny said again, as convincingly as she could manage. In truth, she did feel a little bad. He'd just been the first scapegoat that had come to mind.

Umbridge patted her again. "You go work on your lessons, Miss Weasley. Leave Mr. Potter to me. I hope to help him understand that lying is never the answer to our problems."

"No, Ma'am," Ginny said, and scooted away toward the door. When Professor Umbridge turned to go, she breathed out a sigh of relief and fled back to the dungeons. That had been a total failure of a try, but at least she hadn't gotten a detention or had to explain to Headmaster Dumbledore why she'd taken it into her head to destroy Tom Riddle's trophy. She suspected Dumbledore wasn't wholly ignorant that Tom Riddle was Voldemort's past. She didn't care to explain he was her present. She tried to avoid thinking about the future.

Back in her room she pulled out the diary and, with a grimace wrote, _You didn't use the trophy._

 _Unfortunate. That would have been two._

 _I was caught_.

The diary seemed to still and the pages lay against one another without stirring even in the faint breeze from her open door. _By whom_ , Tom asked after some time to consider. _Did you obliviate them_?

She shook her head, then, with the regular aggravation that he was just a book and couldn't see her, wrote, _It was a professor._

 _Who?_

 _Umbridge. The new Defense teacher._ Tom didn't respond, so she added, _She didn't suspect. I blamed Potter._

The pages rustled at that. _Good girl_ , Tom said. _That will throw her off the scent._

Ginny held her quill above the paper. There were so many things she wanted to talk to Tom about. Voldemort scared her. Draco confused her. She resented her mother, wanted to lash out every time her brothers sent a hex her way or made snide comments about Slytherin and snakes, wanted to fly so high and so fast she couldn't feel anymore. He'd been her confidant. He'd been her friend. She missed the long hours spent confessing everything to an amused companion who took all her secrets without calling her a silly girl. She missed the time spent learning spells and magic from his formidable mind. His Dark, Dark mind.

Voldemort was her clever boy with decades more experience. How was she ever going to beat him?

She closed the diary and put it away, under her knickers with the one remaining dagger, and went out, down the corridor and into the common room. Maybe someone was out there gossiping. She needed to not think for a while.


	28. Chapter 28 - Conversation with Pansy

"Did you and Draco have a fight?"

Pansy cornered her in the corridor opposite the stairway that led to the Owlry and Ginny stood, clutching the note she'd written to Percy, trapped between her glaring classmate and a group of noisy Hufflepuffs who were, Merlin help her, singing the latest Weird Sisters song in three part harmony.

"What?" she almost yelled over the din.

Pansy turned her glare on the leader of the melody section and the boy smirked at her and refused to budge. If anything, he sang louder.

"Bloody 'Puffs," Pansy muttered. She grabbed Ginny by the arm and hauled her back the way she had come, away from the rousing chorus that spoke of true love's enduring power even in the face of a predictable love triangle, and she didn't stop until she reached one of the girls' toilets. She shoved Ginny in and glared at a tiny firstie in blue until the girl burst into tears and ran out the door without saying a word. "Draco. You," she said, enunciating each word as if it were a sentence of its own. "Did. You. Have. A. Fight."

Ginny wrenched her arm free and, after shoving her note down into the far reaches of her bag, rubbed at the spot Pansy had been holding. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

Pansy rolled her eyes. Pansy could be incredibly expressive with her eye rolls. They ranged from 'you're an idiot' to 'can you believe how hot he thinks he is?' This one meant, 'Who do you think you're fooling?' "Every time you come into the Common Room he disappears. If you see him there, you find things you have to do somewhere else. You two are avoiding each other. Why?"

Ginny didn't answer. She turned her back on Pansy and began examining her hair in the dull mirror hanging on the wall. Should she cut it? It got in her mouth sometimes when she flew. She wondered how short she could go and still be able to tie it back for Quidditch.

"If you didn't fight," Pansy started, then she caught her breath. "Did he hit on you?" she demanded. "Or do something he shouldn't… I can hold him down while you break his face into tiny little pieces if you want."

"No!" Ginny said.

Pansy's mouth hovered between what might have been regret that they weren't going to beat up Draco and a decided smirk, and Ginny realized she'd given herself away. "It's not like that," she muttered. Pansy's smirk just grew and Ginny let out a loud aargh of exasperation, turned so she was leaning against the sink, and told Pansy everything.

Well, not _everything._ She didn't tell her about Tom, or the horcruxes, or even about getting discovered by Umbridge. The last of those she written to Percy about; she had to tell someone something and Tom's answer to everything involved murder. Umbridge was interfering? Kill her. Ginny had already told him about the pink cat plates and he insisted she needed to die for bad taste alone. Getting in his way was merely the final straw. Ginny couldn't help but be sympathetic, but killing the woman didn't seem like something she could do.

So she didn't tell Pansy everything, but she told her about Draco, and about flying with Draco, and about how he said she was his type and how he wished she weren't dating Blaise, and how she'd kind of brushed that off until they'd finished their race and she'd looked at him and –

"And birds sang and your heart went pitter-patter?" Pansy asked.

"But it isn't fair to Blaise," Ginny said miserably.

Pansy snorted. The sound was so incongruous in the middle of all the heartfelt confidences that Ginny giggled. "Really," Pansy said, "Blaise is a doll, but he'll be sidling up to some Ravenclaw within a week. He likes you fine, but he doesn't do that thing where he looks at you like you make him miserable the way Draco does. Don't worry about Blaise."

"I'm not sure making him miserable is the best key to a good relationship," Ginny said, going back to ruminating about Draco. She'd been reading about good relationships in _Teen Witch_ and there seemed to be a lot about wearing a little makeup, but not too much, and listening to the boy in question. There hadn't been anything about making him miserable; it seemed to be all about making him happy.

Ginny had, she had to admit, eyed the article with some disfavor. The bit about being careful about not showing the boy up had struck her as especially bad advice. Or maybe it was good advice, but who wanted to date a boy so stupid he got bent out of shape because you were better than him at something? Tom had crowed with delight the first time she'd been better than him at a spell.

"You know what I mean," Pansy said. "It's like you're a slice of cake he's been told he can't have." Now that she knew they hadn't had a fight she was unpleasantly delighted about the entire thing. She seemed to consider for a moment before she added, "It's a bit like how he looks at Potter, only you aren't some kind of off-limits disaster. His mother likes you, and you're Sacred 28 and everything, so you're on limits. In limits? What's the opposite of off limits?"

"Potter," Ginny started. She ignored the in-limits/on-limits question.

Before she could go on Pansy raised a hand. "Potter," she said, "is Dumbledore's pet, and on the other side of… of… of what's coming."

They both hesitated for a moment. This year there had been an unspoken rule in their House to _not_ talk about the way they all know Voldemort was back, or what that might mean. Just survive was the motto passed from one silent face to another whenever the subject came up.

Pansy took a deep breath. "Even if his parents were all liberal about the gay thing – which is not going to happen and you know it – they'd go ballistic over Potter, and not in a good way."

"Star-crossed lovers," Ginny began.

"Leads to two dead teenagers," Pansy said. "Not an optimal ending."

"So you think I should – "

"Dump Blaise and hit on Draco," Pansy said. She grinned and looped an arm through Ginny's. "Maybe I can snag him before he wanders up to Ravenclaw."

When they went out into the corridor they could still hear the Hufflepuff chorus singing away. _Our looooooooveeee conquers all but you broke my hearrrrttttttt._

"Ugh," said Pansy. "Only Puffs."


	29. Chapter 29 - The Plan

Ginny managed to get her owl off to Percy before she saw Blaise again, and she managed to break up with Blaise in a way that left them friends. He smiled a little wanly, then pulled her into a tight hug and said she'd better still wave to him during Quidditch matches, and she promised she would, and that was that.

She almost wished it had been harder. Why hadn't he asked her why, or tried to argue her out of it? By the time she'd slid into her bed, curtains drawn against her roommates, she felt miserable, probably far more miserable than Blaise.

She'd left the diary under her pillow, and pulled it out, opened it, and set her hand along the page. A question whispered up her soul and, tears she didn't even understand burning in her eyes, she didn't say no. Without a word, Tom slipped into her. She waited for his usual, amused condescension, she waited for him to mock her for being a stupid little girl, but he seemed to taste her emotions, a snake licking the very air he breathed, and he settled around her with silent, welcome warmth. She lay in the darkness and felt herself soak her pillow as she cried until Tom said, _I could kill him_.

She choked back a laugh. _No_.

 _He made you cry_.

 _I'd think you'd be all happy. You never liked him anyway._

Tom seemed to settle down against her and she could feel his disagreement. _I like him fine. He'll be an excellent follower. I'm grateful, however, to be spared any direct experience of his inept kisses._

Ginny began to protest that they hadn't been inept and that she wasn't recruiting followers, but before she could articulate the thoughts, she stopped. Of course they had been and of course she was. That's what this House did. They made friends, yes, but always with that sense of who would be useful. It was why Pansy and Daphne had sought her out and brought her into their circle. It was why Theo and Blaise had flirted with her. The Malfoys had marked her as one of their own and everyone wanted a piece of that.

That just made her cry harder. The stupid horcrux had been right. No one valued her for herself, just for her place in the social hierarchy. Everyone just wanted to be close to the first Slytherin Weasley, the girl Narcissa Malfoy championed. She was a chip on the political table, that was all. No one loved her for herself, not even her own family. They'd turned their backs as soon as she'd become a snake.

 _I like you_ , Tom said.

She snorted at that and one of her roommates muttered something about crazy Ginevra.

 _She's not interested in you because of your social status,_ Tom said.

Ginny didn't bother to give words to her sour opinion about that and Tom snickered - actually snickered - and the sound of laughter only she could hear made her smile a tiny bit, though her chest still ached and her eyes still burned.

 _Will you let me kill her, at least?_ Tom asked.

That made her laugh, though she threw a quick silencing spell up around her bed before any noise escaped her mouth. Tom wrapped her in his smug pleasure that he'd cheered her up before he said, _You can't believe things horcruxes say, Ginevra._

She laughed harder at that and, as he became offended, had to point out that he _was_ a horcrux, and that, yes, she would probably be better off discounting everything he said, especially that he liked her. She could feel him get furious he'd trapped himself and at last he said, _Do you think I could lie to you when we're like this?_

 _I think you could deceive anyone_ , she said.

He almost preened at that, but nudged her with an insistence that she answer the specific question. Could he lie to her, lie explicitly and directly, when they were two souls in one body they way they were? She had to admit it seemed unlikely. Still, he'd managed to deceive her for years.

 _You didn't tell me you were Lord Voldemort_ , she said.

 _You never asked_ , Tom said.

 _Splitting hairs_.

She pulled her head up, wiped at her face, and flipped the pillow over so the wet spot wouldn't be pressed into her cheek. _Can you love?_ she asked as she settled back down.

 _What is love?_

 _So, no._

She'd irritated him, and he muttered thoughts too indistinct for her to pick out until he said, _I want to kill people who make you unhappy, and am happy when you are successful. I would vastly prefer not to hurt you. Will that suffice?_

 _Don't start writing romance novels_.

Tom laughed at that and Ginny curled up in her bed, less alone than she'd felt in months. This was her Tom, her best friend, the brilliant, cruel boy who liked to make her smile. She knew she should make him go back into the diary. It couldn't be safe to let him join her like this for too long.

Not join, possess, a voice that wasn't his whispered, and she knew it was her own mind, common sense insisting this was a bad choice. She ignored it. She'd been so sad without him, and now he was back.

 _I missed you too,_ he said.

She nestled down into the soft mattress and pulled the blankets up. _Pansy thinks I should ask Draco out,_ she said.

 _She's wrong_ , Tom said. Before the wave of bleak misery could wash over her again, before she could think she'd ended things with Blaise just so she could be with the boy who made her nervous and filled with butterflies and now she was being told no, that was a bad idea, Tom went on. _Let him feel clever and like he's in charge; let him go after you._

 _What if he doesn't_?

 _He will._ Tom's amusement at the very idea Draco wouldn't pant at the opportunity to ask her out made a tiny bud of confidence bloom anew within her, despite Blaise's lack of despair at being dumped, and she licked her lips at the idea of herself as irresistible. _I said let him feel like he's in charge,_ Tom said _. You know it will be us really running everything._

 _. . . . . . . . . ._

 ** _A/N - Thanks always to turbulenthandholding. She is a treasure, as are you, amazing and thoughtful reader._**


	30. Chapter 30 - Coffee and Conversation

When Ginny woke up, she'd kicked the covers off sometime in the night, something she never did, and she felt chilled. A moment's confusion ended when Tom said, _You use too many blankets._

She grumbled at him. Somehow in horror stories she'd read, evil, possessing spirits did things like write with blood and cause you to forget what you - or, rather, they - had done, not argue with you about how many blankets were the proper amount. This seemed a bit pedestrian for evil.

 _The banality of evil_ , Tom said. _It wants a shower and maybe some coffee._

 _I don't like coffee_ , Ginny said as she fumbled for the caddy with her shampoo and looked for her slippers. _It's gross._

 _I like coffee_ , Tom said. She spent her time in the shower trying to explain how very nasty coffee was. It tasted like burnt dirt. It smelt so much better than it tasted that every sip betrayed the hopes you'd had. Tom was a considerate soul-guest; he didn't comment on the shower, on girls, on anything that might make her the slightest bit uncomfortable. He just petulantly sang the praises of a drink she didn't like.

When she got back to her room, her hand hesitated over the diary. She should put him away. He might be petulant. He might be banal. He was still Lord Voldemort. _You should go away_ , she said. _I have to go to class_.

She didn't really want to close him back up, however. She'd been so alone since they'd fought, and everything was tense and no one talked about anything. All that made it easy to let him coax her into bringing him to class. She didn't quite believe his claim he would behave, especially when he took over to pour himself some of the awful coffee at breakfast. She wanted to make a face at every sip of the drink, but he just sat on the bench at the Slytherin table, his spine straight enough to make even grouchy old Aunt Mabel happy, and ate with precise, neat movements. She let him finish breakfast on his own. If he handled the body, she could mostly tune out the coffee.

She took it back, however, when they ran into Hermione Granger in the hall on the way to her first class. Tom's enthusiasm for History of Magic left her amused and grouchy and his defensive insistence that it had been very boring in that diary just made her smile more. _I doubt you'll find Binns any more exciting than diary life_ , she was saying when Granger said her name.

"Weasley." She didn't sound pleased.

Ginny sighed. "Yes, Granger?"

"I've been doing some research," the girl began, and Ginny rolled her eyes. Of course she had. Granger researched everything. She probably had sex manuals with pages highlighted and marked with bookmarks to aid in cross-referencing. She couldn't fly a broom or make a friend, but she could look things up. She could also lecture, which she proceeded to do. "There are four main items associated with the Founders, the Sword of Gryffindor, Slytherin's Locket, Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, and - "

"The Ravenclaw Diadem, right," Ginny said.

"So, the Sword is up in Headmaster Dumbledore's office." Granger looked briefly guilty before she fastened a much more resolute look on her face. "Harry and I could probably get that. The Locket might have been a family heirloom, but I'm not quite sure what happened to the Slytherin family."

 _Tell her to look up the Gaunts,_ Tom said.

 _Why?_

Tom let loose a quick barrage of information. The Gaunts were the last descendants of Slytherin. His mother had been a Gaunt. A smear of hatred tainted the entire spiel but before Ginny could ask why he hated his family so much, and, if he knew who they were, why had he been raised in a Muggle orphanage, but not before she could feel another burble of irritation that he kept too many secrets, damn him, Granger asked if she were okay.

She refocused on the girl in front of her. "Why wouldn't I be?" she asked.

"Your eyes just got kind of empty," Granger said. "Like you were, I don't now, almost dead or something."

Ginny curled her lip. She didn't want Granger to know about Tom. She doubted she should tell anyone about him. _I have a friend who lives in my diary and my head and, by the way, he's Lord Voldemort_ seemed like a confession likely to win her a one way trip to St. Mungo's. She didn't fancy trying to explain she wasn't crazy to a bunch of Healers. Or, Merlin forbid, her mum. That would give her the best explanation ever for why a Weasley had ended up in Slytherin. She could hear her now. _Poor mite. I feel so guilty that we didn't see the signs, but we go visit her every week._

Rather than say all of that, or confess a thing, she retreated to hostility and a sneer. "Try not to read too much into my expressions, Granger. Stick to your books. It's why my brother keeps you around, after all."

Hermione Granger looked as if she'd been slapped, but, before she could storm off in a huff, Ginny added, "Look up the Gaunts."

Granger stopped. "Who?"

"Last descendants of Slytherin. If the locket is anywhere, it would be with them."

"Right." Granger hoisted her bag up higher on her shoulder. "So that leaves the Cup, and I can't figure out what happened to that, and the Diadem, and that's been lost since the Founders."

"I got that one," Ginny said. She probably shouldn't have enjoyed the look of shock on Granger's face but she did. Putting something over on Gryffindors always felt good. "It was one." She paused. "The trophy Tom Riddle won wasn't."

"Why would it have been? And how could you tell?"

Ginny's smirk faltered when she remembered the horcrux. "They're hard to mistake," she said. "When you destroy them, you know."

"And Tom Riddle's trophy?"

"Go look him up," Ginny said. "I have to go to class."

. . . . . . . . . .

 **A/N - Much thanks to turbulenthandholding, whose alpha reading of the first edition of this kept me going then and whose daily smiles keep me going now. And many thanks to all of you, reading along on this very odd story.**


	31. Chapter 31 - Tom Doesn't Like Rudeness

Tom stretched one arm out over the back of the couch in the Slytherin common room and threw his feet up on the table. Taking up space showed dominance and he had no intention of being anything else. He'd propped parchment over the back of one book and had two others open in front of him. Ginny had settled down in the back of her own head, the tiny bit of guilt she felt at letting him do her homework drowned by her relief that he wanted to. Tom _liked_ History of Magic. He'd listened avidly to Binns as the ghost droned on all while keeping her amused with pointed remarks on how the man got it wrong, bits the book left out, ways the history had been sanitized to make wizards look far more heroic than his little comments showed them to be. Tom _liked_ History of Magic _quite_ a lot, and, even before he'd been turned into a diary, he'd done significant reading on the subject. She'd probably learned more from him in that one class than she had in all her previous years trying not to fall asleep. She'd almost laughed out loud at one point at his internal monologue on how dreadfully Binns bowdlerized the past, and her unguarded, charmed expression had even caught the professor's attention.

"Miss Weasley" he had said. "Do you have a question?"

"No, sir," she'd said. "I'm just fascinated by the lecture."

The ghost had looked as pleased as he ever did, and her roommate had sneered at her, as Tom had gone on dropping little tidbits that were actually interesting.

So, she told herself, letting him handle the essay wasn't lazy. It was smart.

Theo came and sat opposite Tom and grinned. "Hey, Red," he said. "Your favorite subject?"

Tom let out a groan. "Binns," he said. "Could he be any deader?"

Theo laughed and Draco sauntered over and sat next to Tom on the couch. He wasn't quite close enough to count as cuddling up, but he had managed to put himself a tiny bit closer than you would normally sit to a friend. "Room for me?" he asked.

 _Told you_ , Tom said.

Ginny would have rolled her eyes if she'd had the body. Instead she just sent a smirking thought that maybe he could try to pant a little less when he looked over at the blond mirror of his own youthful love.

 _Be polite_ , Tom suggested.

 _When I can tell you like him? Why would I do that?_

 _He's very attractive_ , Tom said in a tone that made it clear he didn't want to discuss it any longer. Ginny decided if she pushed too hard he might turn the essay back over to her, so she did the mental equivalent of shrugging and let him go back to her homework. He was several paragraphs into it when Ginny's least favorite roommate walked by and wrinkled her nose.

"Quite the toady act in class, Weasley," she said.

Tom turned slowly and leveled his full attention on the girl.

 _Tom_ , Ginny said. The tenor of his thoughts worried her. What he wanted to do was bathe the room in the snippy girl's blood and watch her choke to death as she begged for mercy. The vision of her slow death made him happier than even Draco's half-formed smile had.

 _I won't kill her,_ he promised with obvious regret. _It's time, however, she learns to treat you with a little more respect._

"I'm sorry," he said. "What did you say? I didn't quite hear you."

Theo looked from Ginny to the oblivious fourth year facing her and a worried frown began to creep over his face. "Red," he said, but Tom ignored him.

"The way you were kissing Binn's arse in class," the girl said. "It turned my stomach."

Tom pulled his feet down off the table and the arm he'd had splayed along the back of the couch reached down to pull Ginny's wand from her pocket. He kept every move slow and calm until the wand was in his hand. Then he lunged toward the girl. Before she could react, he had her hair fisted in one hand, which he twisted until she gasped and collapsed to her knees. He shoved Ginny's wand into the girl's neck with so much pressure Ginny was afraid he'd break her windpipe. "I'm tired of your whinging," Tom said. He could feel Ginny marveling that he didn't even sound angry. He almost sounded bored, though he kept playing images of her bleeding to death where she knelt and Ginny's heart pounded with Tom's excitement.

He went on, his voice still idle and pleasant, though he could barely keep from licking his lips. "How a girl as stupid as you was Sorted into Slytherin, I don't know, but if you ever look at me in a way I don't like again, you will feel as if your skin were on fire, and I'll keep you there, in unremitting agony, until you are lying in a pool of your own, disgusting fluids and wishing you would die. After, if you're very, very lucky, you may be able to still think your own thoughts. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Blood traitor," the girl got out. Tom reflected she was either very brave or very stupid. She certainly wasn't a properly cunning and pragmatic Slytherin.

He unleashed a tiny fragment of what he'd promised, for only the smallest second, and the girl opened her mouth as if she wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

"Let's try this again," Tom said. "I think you mispronounced, 'I'm so sorry, Miss Weasley. I'll keep a civil tongue in my head from now on, Miss Weasley.'"

"Ginny," Theo said, his tone more of a warning now. Tom glanced over at him. "Snape usually stops by right about now to check on us."

Tom nodded, jabbed Ginny's wand harder into the girl's neck and said, "Well, it sounds like we don't have much time, and I'm waiting."

The girl closed her eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry, Gin… Miss Weasley."

"I'll keep a civil tongue," Tom prompted.

"I'll keep a civil tongue in my head," the girl said.

Tom tossed her down to the floor and, as if nothing had happened, sat back on the couch so one thigh almost brushed against Draco's leg, picked the books up again, and went back to work.

Ginny nudged him from the inside and Tom looked over at Draco. Draco's eyes were wide and he looked a little afraid and more awed. "I guess I shouldn't ever be rude to you," he said.

Tom smiled at Draco. "No," he said. "You really shouldn't."


	32. Chapter 32 - Meeting with Dumbledore

The owls delivered a letter from Percy, which was good, and a summons from Headmaster Dumbledore to come to his office after breakfast. That, Ginny thought, was less good.

 _This is your fault_ , she said to Tom as she scanned the bit of parchment, trying not to feel nervous. She'd never had to go up there, not even when her parents had come and thrown hysterics because she'd been Sorted to Slytherin. _That girl told_.

 _She didn't_ , he said. He'd weaseled his way out of going back into the diary again with a complaint that this was the first time in decades he'd really gotten to listen to other people talk or be alive, and she'd half-known she shouldn't listen but she liked having him there.

You're never alone with someone else in your head.

 _How can you be sure_ , she asked.

 _They never do,_ he said. She decided not to pursue that he'd threatened, and probably tortured, enough people to know they never told. Why wouldn't they tell?

 _You never tell anyone about Fred and George_ , Tom said.

 _Not the same._

 _Just a matter of degree._ He sounded smug, and he made a move to take over the body and she knew that would mean coffee, and she didn't want to deal with the horrible reality of coffee, so she focused on shoving him back into a corner, pouring herself juice, and talking to Draco. He'd slid in across from her and eyed her with the same wary awe she'd seen in his eyes the night before, but when she touched his foot with hers, a delighted smile chased away the hint of fear and he'd started a near monologue on the weaknesses of this year's Gryffindor Quidditch team _._ Spend enough time staring at Harry Potter's arse, she supposed, and you started to notice the team's flying strategies. She crossed her ankles and tipped her head and listened to him rattle on and watched the way he checked to make sure she was still interested.

When she stood to go, smoothing her robes with one hand and fumbling for her bag with the other, Draco said, "Meet you for lunch?" His voice cracked on the last word and he turned the sort of bright red only truly pale people could. Ginny was painfully familiar with how fair skin could show every flush and almost cringed in sympathy for his embarrassment.

"I'd love to," she said. "I think it's shepherd's pie today."

"Great," he said. "That's great." Then he shuffled and swallowed and turned away to talk to Blaise about how McGonagall was an absolute cow with all the homework she was assigning. Blaise met Ginny's eyes over Draco's babbling head and grinned at her. She grinned back, and the world felt like a happy place, filled with friends, until she began winding her way up to Dumbledore's office. Each step felt slower and heavier than the last and Tom stirred with irritation at her nerves until she knocked at the door.

When it opened, Dumbledore sat behind a desk covered with magical trinkets that excited Tom and which she barely noticed because he was holding the knife Professor Umbridge had confiscated. "Ah," the Headmaster said, "Miss Weasley. Very prompt." His eyes twinkled as he asked her to sit and she sank into the chair opposite him trying not to look nervous as she balanced on the very edge of the cushion and folded her hands in her lap. He offered her a candy and she declined right as Tom hissed at her not to eat anything the man offered because it could have a spell worked into it.

"I wanted to return this to you," he said. "Dolores went on at some length how dangerous it was for a child to have a knife in school, but I assume it's for your own ritual work, Miss Weasely?"

She stammered a yes.

"It's been a number of years since we've had a student with an athame," Dumbledore said. "Goblin work at that. A nice piece."

 _Don't meet his eyes._ Tom's frantic insistence made him almost yank the body from her out of fear she wouldn't listen, but she kept her eyes on the desk right in front of Dumbledore, and so Tom quivered in the background but didn't do anything.

"Thank you," she said.

Dumbledore passed the knife back to her, handle first, holding the blade in a cloth to avoid getting oils from his hands on the metal, and she took it. Before she could drop it into her bag, Dumbledore passed her a leather sheath. "I had this made for you, Miss Weasley. That's an excellent tool, and one should treat good tools with care."

She took the leather and slid the knife into it. "Thank you," she said. Her voice only shook a little. "That was very kind of you."

"Not at all," Dumbledore said. "Interesting patterns on the blade, something I haven't seen in a long time."

Ginny made an inconclusive noise.

"Do you have anything you would like to tell me, Miss Weasley?"

She kept her eyes on his beard. "No, sir," she said.

When he'd waved her out of the room, and she passed through the door with the Griffin guarding it, and down the stairs, she kept every step as light as she could. She was just a schoolgirl going off to class as she'd been bid. She wasn't special. She wasn't interesting or worth noticing. It wasn't until she passed an unused classroom that she ducked in, shut the door, and began to shake.

 _He knows_ , she said. _Tom. He knows_.

 _He suspects_ , Tom said. _That's all. And he can't possibly know about me._

She slid down the wall until she was seated on the cold floor, her knees pulled up. Her stomach was in knots. _If he knew about you_ , she began.

 _He'd take that dagger back and plunge it through the diary,_ Tom said. _After he forced you to evict me._

Ginny could feel her jaw thrust out. Her stubborn insistence that no one could force her to get rid of Tom if she didn't want to girded her thoughts. He was _hers_ and she, she who'd never had anything of her own until Tom told her she could take things she wanted, she who'd always made do with hand-me-downs and used toys and oh-we-can't-afford-that-Ginevra, and you-know-your-father-works-hard-Ginevra, and go-make-nice-to-the-orphan-we'll-fawn-over-Ginevra, she had no intention of giving him up.

Ever.

He felt all those thoughts and just said, _Dumbledore's a remarkable wizard. I don't know what he's capable of._

She thrust her jaw out even further and Tom said, _We should get to class._


	33. Chapter 33 - A Letter from Percy

_My dearest sister_ , the letter began.

 _You're his only sister,_ Tom pointed out. Ginny ignored him. She'd been itching to read the note from Percy all day, and they hadn't ever had a moment to themselves since she'd shakily put herself back together after the encounter with Dumbledore and gone to class. Tom had taken one taste of her emotional chaos and had kicked her out and told her to go take a nap or something while he handled class. She'd fretted in the back of her mind while he took notes with handwriting that put hers to shame and asked questions in a velvet tone that made even suspicious Madam Sprout favor them with a warm smile and say that was a very interesting look at the problems posed by dirigible plums before she went off on a tangent on the subject. Ginny had groused at Tom that she had no idea he cared that much about stone fruit. He'd snorted in the privacy of their mind and said he didn't give a fig for stone fruit, which had made her giggle. He just liked making professors dance to his tune.

It was, she had to admit, fun to watch, and it soothed her nerves after the encounter with the far too all-knowing Headmaster.

Then it had been lunch, and Tom had settled back to let her flirt on her own and, after a sharp word, had even spared her his thoughts on just how nicely Draco's robes hung on him.

Ginny had noticed, though she thought he looked better in Quidditch leathers.

 _I don't object to that either,_ had been the last thing Tom had said before he disappeared into silence. Draco poured her some juice and she thanked him and lunch had been wonderful and over too soon. Then afternoon classes, and Pansy had wanted to show her a fashion spread in _Teen Witch_ that she thought might look good on her but she wasn't sure and needed opinions from everyone. Daphne gave it a thumb's down, mostly because of the shoes, and Luna had said it reminded her of the sky.

Pansy had squinted at the tight black dress, and said, "The sky?"

"At night, obviously," Theo had said as he collected his girlfriend to walk her back to her tower before curfew. Luna's necklace, the funny triangle with the circle inside it, had fallen out of her robes when she leaned forward to gather up her books and Tom had stilled inside Ginny and, before she could stop him, he took over.

"Pretty necklace," he'd said. "What's it mean."

Ginny had wanted to throttle him, a thing wholly impossible given he had her throat, and he'd been opaque as he waited for an answer.

Luna had picked it up and looked at the metal work. "Mean?" she'd asked. "Why does it have to mean anything?" Then she'd skipped off with Theo and Ginny had finally - finally - been able to retreat to her bed and pull out the letter from Percy.

 _My Dearest Sister. I read your missive with more than a little trepidation. The woman to whom you refer is powerful within the Ministry, and growing more so with each day. Her animus toward the boy our parents have, perhaps exercising their usual poor judgement, taken in, is well known. Indeed, much of the Ministry paints Harry Potter to be at best a boy deluded and under the sway of Headmaster Dumbledore and, at worst, an attention seeking liar and perhaps not well. There is speculation that the attack he survived as a child has left him unstable and the pressures of Hogwarts are taking an unfortunate toll._

Tom interrupted her. _This is the good one? This pompous windbag?_

 _Shut up,_ she said. _Let me read._

 _I do not know what to recommend regarding your altercation other than to beg you to stay away from her and not to arouse her suspicion or ire. She could be a deadly enemy if provoked and, because our family is so poorly thought of, I do not have the resources or influence to protect you, though I am trying to acquire them. I know you have many connections and I implore you to listen to any wisdom they offer and continue to cultivate their friendships. They may be crucial to us both in the coming years. I trust you implicitly, Ginevra, but be careful and be wise, not rash, not heedless._

 _Your loving brother,_

 _Percy_

 _P.S. Stay away from Harry Potter. Association with him can only taint you and imperil your future. I know you have never been close to him and I beg of you to keep it that way._

Ginny set the letter down. That had been less helpful, less reassuring, than she had hoped. Umbridge was dangerous, and Percy was afraid of her. Percy was afraid of what was coming, which meant, however much the Ministry might be denying it, he knew.

 _Oh,_ Tom said. _I'm sure they all know._ He seemed to cock his head to the side. _I wonder what I'm like to inspire such fear and denial._

 _You're a pain in the arse_ , Ginny said. He sounded much too pleased with himself. It was annoying. _And they aren't afraid of you._

 _Ah,_ he said, still smug, _but they should be._

She felt the thought he didn't quite articulate and sighed. He had the same solution to every problem. It was becoming ridiculous. _We can't just kill Umbridge, Tom. Stay focused on the horcruxes you made. What else should we look for?_

 _Slytherin's locket_ , he said. _I would have stopped at nothing to get that. And I have a feeling I know where I might have hidden if not that one then something._

He painted the image of a cave he'd gone to on a country outing as a boy in the orphanage and, around the edges of the memory of how pleased he'd been to find it, and how it had been a place he could hide and not be found, was the echo of what had happened to the two children who had found him. Tom - peculiar, clever, too pretty by half - had been a target. _It was bully or be bullied_ , he said. He felt almost defensive as she brushed up against one of his worst memories.

Ginny looked at what had happened to him, and what he'd done in response, and said, _They deserved it._


	34. Chapter 34 - An Invitation

Quidditch practice left Ginny harboring murderous thoughts of her own, no Tom required. Marcus Flint had screamed at the whole team, told them they were practically a bunch of worthless babies and how did anyone expect to win a match if that was how they were going to fly?

She slumped at the side of the pitch, exhausted, out of breath, and angry. Tom's opinions on Quidditch centered around how it was a waste of time, so he'd spent the whole of practice curled up asleep in the back of her brain and wasn't around to say 'I told you so' when Draco joined her, just as tired.

"Flint's a rotten prick," he said.

Ginny shrugged. "If you say so," she said. "I don't intend to get close enough to find out."

Draco's little mean grin danced on his face for a moment before it faltered and he mumbled something she couldn't hear. When she looked at him, perplexed, he tried again. His parents were having a Christmas party over the holiday for some of their friends, and some of his. It was dressy. Lots of Ministry people type thing. Did she want to go? Some of their friends were.

"As a friend?" she asked.

He stammered a few times, then summoned his cockiness and smirked at her. "I was thinking as a date," he said.

Ginny raised her brows and looked at him. Sweaty and disheveled, Draco was a wisp of a boy with hair so pale it was almost white falling like a curtain across his grey eyes. He smelled as rank as she probably did after that practice, and she was willing to bet he was staying upright through sheer force of will. He was also, she thought, the only child of a powerful family. He was her friend. His mother her champion. Tom liked him. She let him hang there until he began to squirm, then she reached a hand out and slid it along the back of his neck and pulled him closer to her. "I thought you'd never ask," she murmured against his mouth right before she pressed her lips to his.

She'd had hopes Draco would be better at this than Blaise. As he shoved his tongue past her lips like an eager puppy, she felt those hopes deflate. The books made kissing sound so wonderful. Every romance she'd read had boys who made their partners swoon and gasp and melt. The verbs all described experiences that had little in common with this one, which mostly made her feel a little gross and like she'd rather fancy a glass of water.

Tom stirred and sighed. _Merlin,_ he muttered. _Do I have to do everything?_

Then he took over, and while Ginny had no real idea what to do other than let a boy grope at her and prod at her mouth with his tongue, Tom did. He almost purred against Draco and somehow got the boy to slow down and pay attention. He ran his hands up through the pale blond hair and then tightened his grip. Draco shivered at the sharp pull but didn't yank his head back or ask what the hell was she thinking. Quite the opposite. He swayed against her and Tom tipped her head back as Draco began to press tentative kisses along her throat, eliciting one of those whimpers she'd read about in romances. _I think you've got it from here,_ Tom said.

 _Smug_ , Ginny muttered at him as he disappeared again. She turned her attention to Draco, who, if the erection pressing against her was any indication, had liked the hair pulling, and tried digging her fingernails into the back of his neck. He tightened his fingers on her arms and said her name with a fervor she'd never heard from Blaise in response before returning to her mouth. He'd already discovered it was wise to be a less eager and that improved his technique, at least a little, though, without Tom there to guide her, Ginny fumbled almost as much as Draco. Still, by the time they'd parted, she had blotches on her neck she'd have to hide and he was almost panting.

She licked her lips and let them curve into a slow smile. "I'd love to go to your parents' Christmas party with you," she said.

Draco nodded, a jerky movement at odds with how fluid he'd been only moments before. "Umm," he said, "there'll be… someone will be there."

Tom nudged her. _Lord Voldemort?_ he asked.

"Who?" Ginny asked. Draco looked so uncomfortable she immediately knew Tom had to be right. "He-who-must-not-be-named?" she whispered.

Draco nodded, another sharp, graceless movement before he began to babble that it would be fine. No one would blame her for the way her parents had taken in Potter, she was a minor, she'd done everything she could to distance herself from them. She didn't need to be afraid.

Tom snorted at the idea they should be afraid and Ginny wished, not for the first time, that she could kick him into silence.

"If anything, you'll be a bit of a celebrity," Draco said. "The first Weasley - "

"In Slytherin, I know," Ginny said. She made a face. She hated the way people liked to value her for her House affiliation or that she wasn't like her stupid parents. She wanted them to value her for herself.

 _They will_ , Tom said. _They'll all fear you, and try to get you to look on them with favor. They'll cringe from your hands like whipped dogs who still want to lick the very palm that abuses them._

Ginny concealed her smile at that idea. _Do you promise?_ she asked.

 _I wouldn't have it any other way_ , Tom said.

When she let herself smile at Draco, he was looking at her with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ginny said. "I think I was just invited to the party of the year as the date of the son of the house."

Draco's smirk was back as he took her hand and they began to head back toward the castle. "You just looked a little blank for a moment."

"Don't worry about me," Ginny said. "I'm great." She smiled up at him and Draco preened, assuming his attention was the reason for the smug pleasure on her face.


	35. Chapter 35 - Menstruation

Ginny woke up to an unpleasantly familiar back ache. Tom had kicked off the blankets in the night again, so on top of the pain she was also cold, which made her doubly irritable. One of her roommates grunted in her sleep and, as Ginny grabbed her things and left the room to plod down the worn corridor to the showers, she considered letting Tom just kill the stupid girl with her stupid inability to cast a silencing charm around her bed and her stupid nail polish and her stupid hair.

Tom bestirred himself as she plopped too much shampoo onto her hand and stood there under the water thinking she couldn't manage to do anything right, not even this. She'd gotten caught with the trophy and Dumbledore knew something and she didn't even have good robes to wear to the party at the Malfoy's. Tom licked at her thoughts, but any opinions he had about her mental state didn't rate compared to his displeasure at the way her back hurt.

 _You're sick_ , he said. _Why aren't we going to the mediwitch?_

Ginny scraped some of the shampoo off her hands and watched it gurgle down the drain with a fat slurp before she dumped the rest into her hair and started to work it in. She was stupid and poor and all her friends were just using her, but she could have clean hair and she would.

 _Ginny._ Tom sounded more urgent, probably irritated by her lack of response. _Your back hurts and there is something wrong with your abdominal region. It's swollen and tender and…_

He stopped talking and as her eye caught the red swirling away with the soap. Yep. There it was.

 _You're bleeding. Why are you bleeding? Why are we standing here washing your hair when you should be going to the infirmary?_

He made an attempt to take over and she shoved him aside, irritation warring with a surge of amusement at his confusion that helped ward off the emotional misery. She wondered how long she'd be able to drag this out, but she'd already tipped him off and he seemed to flounder for a bit before regaining his composure.

 _Of course. Menstruation. Being female has some quirks I hadn't considered._

 _Quirks?_ Ginny asked. She didn't think she'd call them quirks, personally. Her monthly wasn't a _quirk_. She wondered if this month would be chunky or not.

Tom didn't deign to answer that. Possibly her sarcasm was too obvious, or possibly he was considering the very real possibility she'd shove him back into his diary for being a rotten prat and go about her day sulking and crampy without him. She could hear the ghost of a _Chunky?_ drift past her but he didn't really ask and she didn't explain. He'd find out soon enough. She turned and her uterus decided to emphasize the crampy part and she swore under her breath. Her monthly always made her angry at the world but this month seemed especially bad. Stress, she supposed. Deciding to take down the darkest wizard the world had ever known, with the help of that very same wizard, all while the headmaster breathed down her neck, might qualify as a bit of stress liable to make this nonsense worse.

 _This much pain cannot possibly be normal_ , Tom was insisting as she stepped out of the shower and fumbled through her things to find a tampon. He flinched when she inserted it and she felt a frisson of malicious pleasure that her Dark Lord boy wonder was so unsettled by normal female body functions. Kissing a boy he was up for, but vaginas and all their _quirks_ made him uncomfortable. It almost made her want to go have sex right then and there just to see how he'd respond.

Almost.

Y _ou cannot go about your day like this_ , he said. _I am not talking about the bleeding, but the pain is sufficient that any reasonable person would go back to bed and have the kitchens send up a tray._

Ginny stepped into her knickers. She'd already stained this pair some month in the past so at least she wouldn't have to worry about ruining a good set.

 _Ginevra!_ Tom said with so much emphasis she stopped getting dressed and crossed her arms, prepared to argue with the person who only existed inside her head. _You are not well. You need to go lie down._

 _This is normal,_ Ginny told him. _If I took a day off from life every time I had cramps, I'd be the laughingstock of the dorms. I've played matches with this going on. With worse._

 _Not possible._

 _We have practice this afternoon, so you can watch and find out._

Tom fell silent and she finished getting dressed, the worn skirt her mother had found used paired up with a crisp new shirt Narcissa had gifted her. Knee socks with a green line knit into the top, uniform compliant shoes, everything the same as every other day as she forced herself through each movement while her body threw its monthly tantrum she hadn't gotten pregnant. Back in her room she found a vial of pain medication and tossed it down, the bitter taste like chalk and acid on her tongue. She sometimes thought potioneers made the things taste awful on purpose, as if they wanted to punish you for being weak enough to need help. At breakfast she nibbled on toast without marmalade and sipped at a cup of juice and was glad that she had an easy day today, at least until her Quidditch practice. Once she was moving she'd feel better.

She was halfway to her first class before Tom spoke again. _This does, I suppose, explain why it's so much more difficult to torture women._

Ginny didn't bother to articulate her response to that. She'd torture him if he didn't shut up. He went on anyway. _I will have to think about how to refine crucio for people already used to this._

 _You do that,_ Ginny muttered. _Prat._

 _. . . . . . . . . ._

 ** _A/N - Thank you all for your lovely responses to this bit of ridiculousness._**


	36. Chapter 36 - Christmas Party, 1 of 3

Ginny sat in the upstairs sitting room Narcissa had set aside for some of her teenage guests and examined the hint of makeup Pansy had applied to her eyes nervously. Was it too much? Did she look like she was trying too hard? Pansy set the glittery butterfly clip she'd been fussing with in her hair for the third time before she looked over at Ginny and said, false cockiness painted over her voice, "You look fine. Stop worrying."

"Pot, meet the cauldron," Daphne muttered as she picked at one of her fingernails. When Pansy glared at her she said defensively, "We're all nervous, Pans. Don't be like that."

They'd all been ushered to this room as they'd arrived so they could 'have a place to touch up their lip gloss' and 'have a bit of a gossip.' "So we can come out like pigs at auction, she means," Pansy had muttered when Daphne arrived. It was true, Daphne had agreed, and that just made Ginny worry more. Even Tom had disappeared, his usual cocky suggestions and sly commentary silenced by the oppressive weight of wealth and expectations. He knew a lot of things, but the lives of not-quite-debutante rich girls wasn't one of them.

"It wouldn't be so bad," Pansy said, "just another party, if _he_ weren't going to stop by."

"It'll be fine," Daphne said, but her voice shook.

Maybe if you aren't a blood traitor, Ginny thought. Would _he_ care she wasn't like the rest of her family? Why did her father have to work such a disgusting, Muggle-oriented job? Why did her family have to be themselves? Why couldn't they be more like Draco's parents, rich and respectable and not likely to be found tinkering with trash out in the shed?

And how much was he like Tom?

Draco interrupted her thoughts when he knocked on the door, stuck his head in, and said, "I snagged a tray of starters. Anyone want one?" Then he, Theo, Greg, and Vincent trooped into the room and their loud ribbing of one another and their shoving made the room smaller and there wasn't space any longer for the kind of thoughts that had been bedeviling them all.

"Where's Luna?" Daphne asked as she batted one of Greg's endlessly wandering hands away. "Didn't you invite her, Draco?"

Guilt flashed across Draco's pale face but Theo rescued him. "I told him not to," he said. "Told her she wouldn't like it, that I'd take her out later." The hands Pansy placed on her hips suggested she took issue with that, issue she was about to articulate, until Theo added, "She's not good at not saying whatever she thinks, you know?"

Pansy's hands unclenched and she nodded.

"You'll just have to dance with me," Theo said.

She complained he always stepped on his partner's toes while Vincent laughed and stuffed one bacon wrapped scallop after another into his mouth. Draco nudged Ginny as she watched the pair of them and, when he had her attention, he handed over a small, wrapped box.

Ginny could feel her eyes widen even as something curdled in her stomach. She hadn't gotten him a gift. She'd had to borrow robes from Pansy to have anything even remotely appropriate for a high society party. Pansy had loaned her the dress, Daphne her shoes, her family had given her grief. She hasn't had the galleons for presents. She didn't even have the knuts. Her distress must have shown on her face, because Draco muttered it wasn't usual to give gifts, but he'd seen this and thought of her, and he hoped she'd forgive his bad manners in giving a gift at a non-gift-giving time, he was a clod. The words fell out of us mouth and jumbled together in a mess on the floor and Ginny pried the paper off the box, more relieved than she could say.

"I guess I could overlook it," she managed.

Draco bit his lip and waited for her to pull the lid off the small box. When she did, she gasped. The pendant was simple enough: just a silver chain with a single black pearl. A single _large_ black pearl. "Draco," she said. She knew she should say this was too much, it was way too much to give to a girlfriend, they were too young. Instead she let him take it off the velvet and fasten it around her neck.

Pansy's opinion was succinct. "Nice."

Tom burbled up from somnolence to grouchily ask if they were ready to go downstairs yet.

 _Soon,_ Ginny said. She admired the way the pearl gleamed against her skin in the mirror. _Look at what Draco got us._

Tom acknowledged the necklace was very nice. _Nice work catching the baby cobra,_ he said. _That's not a present for a fling._

Ginny reached up a finger to rest on the gem and smiled at her reflection. _Am I that knife yet?_

 _A poisoned knife,_ Tom purred. _My favorite kind._

A frazzled looking housemaid opened the door and said they were wanted in the ballroom. Pansy grabbed the beaded bag she'd stolen from her mother's vast collection, Daphne checked the strap on her heel, and Ginny gave herself one more careful examination before she turned away from the mirror. Anything not right now would have to stay wrong. Her mother's advice, filled with admonitions to be polite and say thank you and not to drink anything because she was too young, had included one bit Ginny deemed useful. Don't fuss with your appearance once the party starts. That looks insecure, unconfident.

And Ginny was afraid looking uncertain in this company might mean death.

She, Pansy and Daphne were being paraded by the Malfoys as witches worth knowing. These are the next generation, their presence here said. Young, Dark, and beautiful.

 _They have no idea how Dark,_ Tom said, his self-satisfaction returning. Ginny ignored him, too busy fretting to waste time on his arrogance. Maybe Pansy, with her brittle, impeccable lineage, could afford to be seen worrying whether her hair was just so.

Ginevra Weasley, poor blood traitor, didn't have room to seem less than perfectly poised.

 _They'll beg to cut themselves on your edges, Ginevra,_ Tom whispered. _And if they're very lucky, we'll let them._

With that reassuring voice in her ear, Ginny hooked one arm through Draco's, grabbed a flute of champagne from a tray she passed on her way down the stairs, and prepared to dazzle at the Christmas party.

. . . . . . . . . .

 **A/N - There is a pin of the necklace on the board for this story: www DOT pinterest DOT com /colubrina/things-in-common/**


	37. Chapter 37 - A Meeting with Voldemort

The party started off smoothly enough. If some of the guests struck Ginny as not well, Narcissa kept the children steered away from them. She met one man, old enough to be her father, who chucked her chin and told her he and his partner had a daughter nearly her age. When she asked who, his mouth tightened and he said she was at home in France. He hadn't wanted to bring her here, that much was obvious.

"Regulus," Narcissa said, her hand on his arm, "don't bore the child."

 _I can feel his Mark,_ Tom said from the back of her head. _I can feel all of them._ He seemed pleased with himself for having selected such a clearly excellent follower as this Regulus and Ginny rolled her eyes at how he felt smug about something _he_ hadn't done.

 _You were already in the diary when you collected him,_ she said.

Draco fetched her starters, including a thing with some kind of spread on tiny toasts that she wanted to eat until she couldn't do more than groan and beg for mercy. The band played, and they all danced, and if she didn't know formal waltzes well, a lifetime on brooms had made her physically adept enough to fake it.

It wasn't like that Alecto Carrow could dance.

The thick-necked Carrow twin wheezed with a giggle that made Tom recoil in the depths of Ginny's mind, and when he saw and felt the Dark Mark on the woman's arm he almost hissed his displeasure. Ginny didn't think the woman was 'all there', as her mother would have said, and Narcissa Malfoy's expression when she extricated Ginny from a conversation about blood traitors and ginger hair suggested this was one of the rare points on which Molly Weasley and Narcissa would find themselves in complete sympathy.

 _Filthy trollop_ , Tom began to fume. _She has no respect. She should be -_

 _You picked her_ , Ginny said.

 _I had bad taste,_ Tom said. _Clearly_.

 _You had good taste with Regulus,_ she said, looking over to where the man stood, caught in a conversation with Draco's father and someone she'd heard called 'Evan.' Evan also had a Mark, Tom told her. Evan was also sane, unlike Alecto.

Despite the conversation with Alecto, and Tom's furious disapproval of the woman's existence that settled like a red film over Ginny's thoughts, the party was more fun than she had expected. Food. Dancing. Friends. Narcissa introduced the three girls 'round to her friends and they all cooed over the teenagers and patted them on the arms as if they were toddlers and reminisced in shockingly dull ways about how they'd enjoyed their own youth, flirting with boys under their mother's watchful eyes. Some of the older women talked about their weddings as if they had been yesterday. Ginny watched Pansy and copied her friend's example on how to deal with the conservative matrons. Pansy dimpled and smiled and blushed at the very _idea_ of boys. So did Daphne. You'd never have known she'd pried Greg's fingers out of her bra shortly before as she turned red and giggled behind her hand as one woman told her kissing wasn't anything to be bothered by.

One old woman complimented Ginny on her pearl and when she admitted Draco had given it to her the woman exchanged a significant look with Narcissa, who smiled back. "I approve," the woman said.

 _As if anyone asked her,_ Tom said in a huff. _This is the most ridiculous nonsense I've ever been subjected to._

The pleasant part of the evening evaporated when Ginny turned and found herself face to face with a monster.

Greyish skin, no hair, a nose that would give anyone nightmares, all of that paled in comparison to the horror that was the man's red eyes.

Tom, who'd been just letting himself ride along, slammed into action. _Don't look in his eyes_ , he said as he began to do what Ginny later realized was occlusion. The feeling of walls going up around her brain reminded her of a headache, or the feeling of utter stupidity you had after a stressful test when all your thoughts had been leeched out onto parchment and pushed away.

"Miss Weasley," the man said.

"M…my Lord," Ginny stammered out, dropping an immediate curtsey. She'd never been so terrified in her life and she had a version of this man in her head. If her Tom weren't frantically trying to hide his existence she might have been able to summon at least a polite smile. As it was, her jaw trembled and all she could think was _don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me._

"Dear Lucius told me of the little girl they'd brought into the fold," he said. Ginny bobbed another curtsey, not at all sure what she should do. "Pureblood, yes? And in the noble house of Slytherin?"

"Yes, my Lord," she said, her voice nearly a whisper despite her attempt to sound as normal as she could. Her terror seemed to please him and he took a step to the right and tilted his head, studying her as a hawk might a mouse. She shivered and Tom burrowed deeper and deeper into her mind as though he could hide in the shadows of her fear.

"I questioned his judgement, I admit," Lord Voldemort said, and her shoulders began to shake. "I thought any child of a family so openly opposed to the way things ought to be could not be a proper Slytherin, yet here you are, with excellent manners and a lovely disposition."

Ginny curtsied again and kept her eyes on the floor. Her head burned with pain from whatever it was Tom was doing and it was all she could do to keep standing upright. Lord Voldemort was nothing like her Tom, nothing like her friend. Nothing at all.

She ignored the quick memory of her roommate on her knees, ignored the flash of Tom torturing a bird, ignored the way he'd taught her to turn nail polish into a caustic toxin with one spell. Tom was different. He was her friend. He was _her._ He wasn't like this horror watching her as if deciding whether to crush her just on a whim.

"Enjoy the party, Miss Weasley," Lord Voldemort said before he glided away to join a group of adult men. She didn't look to see if they were happy to converse with him. Her legs wobbled and Draco was there, a hand under one elbow.

"Perhaps a drink?" he said in her ear, "and a quick step out to the back terrace?"

"Thank you," she managed to say. "That would be very kind of you."

Somehow Draco led her through the milling people, out the door, into the mercifully cold air and a shadowed alcove half behind a shrubbery. She took the drink he'd acquired on the way and gulped the whiskey. It burned down her throat but left a path of clarity in its wake.

"So that's _Him_ ," she said. She took a deep breath and considered what to say. "What an honor to have him at your party."

"Yes," Draco said, just as cautiously. "A great honor."

 _We have to kill him_ , Tom said. He sounded more shaken than she'd ever heard him. _He's so strong, Ginevra. So much stronger than I am. I'm just… he's what I am after decades of… how are we going to do this._

 _I don't know,_ she said. She nestled into the arms Draco wrapped around her and felt his chest rise and fall in a steady, reassuring rhythm. She had Tom and she had Draco and Lord Voldemort hadn't killed her. He'd _approved_ of her, if such a thing could be said. _We got rid of the diadem. We'll find the rest._

"What are you thinking?" Draco asked.

She bit her lip.

. . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - It's an AU and therefore I decided Regulus is alive and sane and living in France with Evan Rosier and their adopted children._**


	38. Chapter 38 - Kissing

Being intimidated made Tom want to reestablish his own dominance, and he did that by pushing Draco up against the wall of the Manor, right below the terrace where they were hidden by the shrubbery. Draco shivered as the cold stone soaked through his dress robes, but didn't murmur anything about perhaps they should go back inside. Tom ground against his date, and pinned Draco's wrists against the foundation with force borne of the many years Ginny had spent gripping a broom handle. Draco's mouth opened under the assault and he gasped even as he returned the furious, frantic kiss.

Ginny waited, half engaged with what Tom was doing, half fretting about the monster probably still circulating upstairs, until Tom pulled back and laughed even as he panted a bit. Draco tried to take his hands away from the wall and Tom kept him in place, adding a tiny bit of magic to Ginny's own force, until Draco began to look almost scared. Then he let go.

 _Be nice_ , Ginny said.

 _I was nice,_ Tom said. _He liked every minute of it._

Ginny couldn't argue that point, but she shoved him back and lifted up Draco's hand, turned it, and looked at the scrapes bloodying his wrist. Even in the light spilling out from the party she could see he'd been hurt. She sighed as Tom radiated smugness and brought Draco's wrist to her mouth so she could brush her lips across the injury. "Sorry about that," she said.

Draco tried to summon his usual mean grin. "It's okay," he said. "I'm not going to complain my girlfriend's a little wild."

Ginny made a face. Great. She could already see him sitting around his room at Hogwarts telling Greg and Vincent what a feisty minx she was.

 _He will not,_ Tom said. The words rang of threat and Ginny felt her usual annoyance that Tom figured he could just intimidate Draco into not bragging. Sometimes she wondered if he had any idea how people worked. Outside of charm and fear, he often seemed a little lost when it came to human emotions.

 _He will,_ she said. She looked back down at the scrapes on Draco's wrist. _We have to tell him._

 _What if he,_ Tom began, then stopped because she was right. Draco would figure it out sooner or later unless Tom never took over, and that wasn't a solution that appealed to him. _We can always obliviate him if he finds me bothersome._

 _Right_ , Ginny said, though Tom would have to handle any obliviation. She understood the charm in theory, but it wasn't really the sort of thing you could practice on gnomes in the back yard. "Draco," she began, "I have to tell you something."

He made an expectant noise as he raised his other hand to his mouth and sucked at the injury a little.

"You know how you've commented sometimes that I seem to go a little blank?" Ginny asked.

Draco nodded. "You did it just now."

"It's because I'm talking to someone in my head."

Draco stilled and she could see his eyes dart up to the terrace as if he were looking for an escape route. "I'm not crazy," she said hastily, "at least, I think I'm not. I have a book."

"A book?" Draco didn't sound like he quite believed the not crazy part, but she laid out the whole story. She'd found a diary in her things the very day she'd met him and it had had a person in it. Well, half a person.

 _I am not half a person._

 _Oh, shut up._

"You just did it," Draco said. "Like you were gone for a second."

"He's being a git," Ginny said. "He's arguing with me. Doesn't like being called half a person."

 _Because I am not._

 _Well, that thing up there is even less than half if your theory he made seven horcruxes is right. He's maybe a fifth of a person._

 _He's less than one percent of a person,_ Tom corrected her. At her mental flare of disbelief he'd done the calculations that quickly, he added, _I was always good at sums._

Draco cleared his throat. "Sorry," Ginny said. "Tom's being difficult."

"So," Draco said, as if feeling his way towards something he couldn't quite articulate, "This person in your head, he's a he?"

"That isn't weird, right?" Ginny asked.

The look Draco gave her made her laugh. "You have a person named Tom in your head that you lifted out of a magical diary," he said. "That's very weird." He hesitated for a moment and then said, "That was him, kissing me before wasn't it."

Ginny nodded, and waited for Draco to emotionally bolt right out of this conversation. She'd liked the pearl. She'd liked him as a boyfriend. She just didn't think he'd be up for a girl who wasn't quite one person. It seemed a lot to ask of a person. Instead of telling her it had been great but maybe they should slow down, as she expected, he wrapped his hands around her lower back and said, "I don't suppose this time I could kiss you and not your passenger?"

She lifted her mouth to his and the gentle, hesitant way he placed kisses around her lips made her melt. He wasn't leaving. He didn't have some polite excuse for why they had to end things. She let herself lean against him, this time as the tiny thing she was rather than as an aggressor, and he drew her closer and it was sweetness and the leftover taste of whiskey and maybe even a promise that this would work.

When they broke apart, Draco said, "I can tell." She wrinkled her nose and he said, "I can tell the difference."

"I should hope so," Tom said.

"Damn it," Ginny pushed him back out of control.

Draco laughed. "I can tell then, too. He really is a different person."

"My Tom," Ginny said. "Found in a diary." She poked at Draco. "You can't let anyone know."

He promised he wouldn't, and, both relaxed after the strong whiskey neither was used to and their bout of truth telling, they leaned back against the wall and returned to kissing, their noses brushing against one another's and none of them were careful enough to make sure no one had been listening.

Narcissa slipped back into the party, her glass of wine lightly held between poised fingers. She stopped to compliment Iris Goyle on her robes, one of the woman's usual horrid shades of puce, and floated over to whisper in Lucius' ear. He wrapped an arm around her waist and said, "Oh yes, we'll talk about that tonight."

. . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - Thank you all for your ongoing support. I appreciate it more than I can properly say._**


	39. Chapter 39 - Lucissa

Lucius stepped out of their en suite and blotted his hair dry with a special towel he'd found. "Another excellent party, my love."

Narcissa frowned at him from their bed. She'd been reading one of the less savory volumes from their library and it hissed as she stopped paying attention to it. She slapped the cover without looking and it ruffled its pages but hunched down, sulking and obedient in her hands. "I didn't care for some of your former colleagues," she said. "They are unrefined."

Lucius grunted in agreement. There wasn't much he could say to that. Openly disparaging Death Eaters risked angering the Dark Lord, who'd already expressed his unhappiness with Lucius once this evening. Narcissa was right, however. Some of his fellows were uncouth at the very least and gibbering morons if he were being fully honest. For every Thoros Nott Lord Voldemort had recruited, he'd seemingly also found half a dozen Alecto Carrows. At least his dreadful sister-in-law and her husband, and whatever that other Lestrange brother was to her, were all still in Azkaban. Bellatrix had been unstable before she'd spent twelve years under watchful Dementors. He hated to think of what she must be like now.

Regulus Black was fine, of course, and Evan always a pleasure to talk to, but they spent as much time in France as possible. Neither was happy to be called back to the Dark Lord's somewhat maniacal service. They'd been impassioned youth once, eager to carry flags and march in the streets. They'd seen the world in black and white, and the suppression of the Dark Arts had been _bad_ and anyone who promised them freedom from that _good_.

Now, like any sensible adult, they cared more about their children's marks in school and found their youthful ardor embarrassing at best and more honestly something to disavow in its entirety. They wanted political power, of course, but not like this. He'd seen Regulus flick a glance at Voldemort, then at him, wordlessly asking, _What do we do?_

Unfortunately, Lucius had no answer. Yet. They'd tied themselves magically to a man who'd gone mad and whose ideals were, upon closer, mature examination, obviously flawed.

Lucius turned his thoughts away from the depressing array of incompetence, madness, and social climbers that made up Voldemort's forces and smiled at his wife. "Their lack of refinement in no way made your party less spectacular."

"I did overhear one interesting conversation," Narcissa said. "As I think I mentioned."

Lucius nodded. She had.

"Tell me about the little book you gave to Miss Weasley," Narcissa said.

"The diary?" he asked. When Narcissa regarded him with the steady gaze that meant he'd best stop stalling, he settled down on the edge of their bed. "It was one of Lord Voldemort's school things," he said, "entrusted to my father, and then to me."

"Oh?" Narcissa asked. "It seems to have been most… active… for a book."

Lucius began to smile. Was it possible his hail mary plan had worked? "It was," he agreed without displaying the wild hope that danced within him. "I take it she's been writing in it, letting it write back to her? I admit I'd rather hoped she would."

"Oh, it's a bit more than that," Narcissa said. "She's let the spirit in that little book out and it's taken up residence within her."

Lucius had to control his urge to gape. "She's done what?" he asked stupidly. If asked, he would have said such a thing couldn't be possible. It couldn't be good. Could it?

Narcissa looked unpleasantly amused at his stunned expression and explained. She'd overheard Ginny confessing to their son that she'd had a talking book, found it in her things the same day she'd met Draco, and now the soul of that book resided in her head. "Do tell me, Lucius, darling, who is Tom Riddle?" Narcissa asked. "Is he who I think he must be?"

"Yes," was all Lucius said.

"It was a horcrux then," Narcissa said. The book in her hand purred at the mention of such a Dark bit of magic and the pages fanned out for a moment.

Lucius looked at the tome. "What are you reading?" he asked. "I do hope the Ministry has no idea we own that."

"One of my mother's," Narcissa said, petting the spine. "I had her elf bring most of her library over when she died."

Lucius looked at the book and sighed. Druella Black had not been his favorite person. She'd had Narcissa's beauty, yes, but also Bellatrix's tendency toward hysteria and unbending extremism. Druella had never been able to wrap her tiny mind around the liberal idea that you couldn't just murder the lower orders or that servants should be treated reasonably well or they would take it into their heads to stop serving.

"So Draco's little girlfriend," Narcissa said, interrupting his grouchy thoughts about her late mother, "She has a version of Tom Riddle inside her head."

"Does Draco know," Lucius asked, trying to figure out what to do. He'd hoped the little Weasley girl would be influenced, would be enchanted by the _idea_ of the Dark Arts. A political Weasley who didn't turn her nose up at anything duller than charms to scrub pots would have been a coup and a useful pawn. He hadn't wanted _her_ to be enchanted in the more literal sense. Of course, perhaps this could also be useful.

"I did overhear her telling him," Narcissa said, "Though she didn't quite clarify the 'Tom' in her head was the very same Tom Riddle who had terrified them both a bit earlier." She set the book aside, pushing several perfume bottles out of the way so it had room to sit on her nightstand and picked up a brush. As she began leisurely stroking through her blonde hair, then plaiting it back for the night, she added, "I rather like little Ginevra, don't you?"

"Yes," Lucius said. "Of course I do."

"She's such a useful little political chip, of course, being a Weasley and all that, but she seems a sensible girl. I would have made a show of supporting her even if she'd been a silly thing but I'm pleased she seems like a clever girl with nice manners."

"She's been following your lead for several years," Lucius said. He had no idea where she was going. "You shouldn't be surprised she knows how to behave."

"She'll be good for Draco," Narcissa said. "And she, all of her, will be good for Britain, don't you agree? Assuming she's, well, stable all the way through."

"I do like a reasonable person," Lucius said. "And it's been too long since a woman was a central figure in our politics. I always assumed you meant to position her as either Minster, or - "

"Oh Draco'd be a terrible Minister," Narcissa said. She adored her son but he could be petulant and, more importantly, Malfoys preferred to wield power from the shadows. "Ginevra, however, the only daughter of the Weasley clan? Sorted to Slytherin? Married to a Malfoy?"

Narcissa drummed her fingers, lost in thought, as Lucius cautiously said, "And a sane version of the man we both decided to follow before he became… less than whole?"

"Quite," Narcissa agreed. "No worries she'll suddenly embrace Dumbledore and his lot with that voice in her head, no matter what her tiresome family thinks. We'll have to get rid of the rest, of course."

"The rest?" Lucius asked her.

"I doubt he only made one," Narcissa said. "Horcrux, I mean. It wouldn't do to have another one wandering around, my love. One Tom Riddle is all the world needs."

"There's a brother," Lucius said, going back to Ginny. "One of the endless Weasley boys. He's a bit of a bore, but he seems to be estranged from the rest of their idiocy. Should I…?"

"Oh yes," Narcissa said. "We don't want it to look like she rejected her family. That they rejected her, all but the brave, Ministry employee, the one who cares about all of Britain, not just whatever obsession that Arthur Weasley latched onto this week. That would look much better"

"Batteries," Lucius said with distaste. He'd had the misfortune of overhearing Arthur Weasley go on about them at some length the last time he'd been at the Ministry. How one man could be such a bore boggled the mind.

"What?" Narcissa looked at him blankly.

Lucius just shook his head. As if he could, or would ever want to, explain Arthur Weasley.

. . . . . . . . .

 **A/N - I am continuing to try to set this up as a political rivalry between those in favor of the Dark Arts and those opposed. The latter camp is led by Dumbledore, the former by Voldemort. However, his camp is slowly splitting in to the violent racists who support the risen LV and the political operatives who, while hardly savory sorts of people, are just snobs who want power, and who will slowly move to back the Malfoys (and thus Ginny/Tom). I welcome constructive criticism on how well I am accomplishing that.**


	40. Chapter 40 - Potions Class

Meeting Voldemort made Ginny itch more to destroy all his horcruxes. He loomed into so many of her nightmares that Tom began waking her up whenever one started in order to spare them both. It meant she had fewer red-eyed demons glaring at her as she ran through forests in her sleep but it also meant she wasn't getting enough sleep and her own eyes became red and dark circles sagged under them. The year seemed to drag and she found herself in classes making lists of potential horcruxes and where they might be. Soon it would be the Easter holiday and Narcissa Malfoy had made her promise to go out on a shopping expedition. Instead of anticipating it, though, Ginny found herself too tired to care.

She tried to corner Hermione one day and ask her if she and Harry had made any progress, but Hermione muttered something about how Harry wouldn't do anything he was supposed to and maybe Ginny could leave her alone.

Tom had not been amused by that brush off. _Who does that girl think she is_ , he demanded. _She should be grateful we've noticed her! Serving us is an honor!_

 _If they find one, great_ , Ginny said. She didn't hold out hope the Gryffindors would manage anything. They were too impulsive. Too emotional. _If not, no harm done._

 _Maybe_ , Tom said. He wanted to skin Hermione Granger alive. _Not all of her,_ he said as Ginny began to voice an objection. _Just one arm. Just enough to teach her to behave with appropriate respect._

Ginny had fingered the soft wool of the winter scarf wrapped around her neck she still adored and fought back Tom's urges. Why did it have to be so cold in the castle? _We want her to help us, you idiot, not report us for torture._

 _Avada then. She can't report us if she's dead. It's not as if she's making herself properly useful._

Tom's suggestion made her head hurt, and he had to take over in Potions so she could get some rest. She didn't get rest, though. She just obsessed over what they might be able to find until Tom took his attention away from the potion to reassure her. _We'll go to the cave this summer. I'm sure there's something there. I know how I think._

Something about that made her have to suppress an only partly hysterical giggle. She supposed he would.

 _Relax, Ginevra. You're safe, I'm safe. Lord Voldemort has no idea I'm here, or what we plan, and we'll keep it that way._ The voice in her head became smug. _And if he becomes more terrifying to other people before we get rid of him, that just makes us look that much more heroic. It would be useful for him to become a public threat before we destroy him._

 _We aren't heroic. We're practical. He'd kill you._ Ginny felt the need to point out the obvious, plus, if truth be told, she didn't like the idea of being heroic. Heroes died, which was exactly what she didn't want to do.

 _See_ , Tom said. _Dying is bad_.

 _Inevitable_ , she said as he returned to stirring their cauldron counter-clockwise. For some reason she'd been paired with one of the less clever Slytherins for this lesson, and Tom had already had to slap his hand once to keep him from doing any of the work. He chopped badly, couldn't follow instructions, and seemed woefully ignorant of his own incompetence. Fortunately, he was a little scared of Ginny, and lazy enough to be happy about letting her - or rather, Tom - do the whole of the assignment.

 _You could make a horcrux_ , Tom suggested. _Or, rather, we could._

If she'd been the one in charge of the body at that moment she would have ruined the potion in her shock. She would have stopped stirring as she froze and then she never would have heard the end of how she'd insisted on doing the whole thing and then bungled it. _I beg your pardon?_ she said as Tom kept stirring as though he hadn't just suggested something beyond anathema.

 _You know I have opinions about dying,_ he said. 

_I've seen what horcrux creation does to a person_ , she said as he leaned forward to sniff at their concoction. It was done. _I wasn't impressed_.

 _Seven seems to have been too many_ , Tom agreed. _But one is fine. I was the one, and I'm fine._

"Make yourself useful by bottling this and cleaning up," Tom said to their partner. The boy seemed to consider bristling, then looked into Ginny's eyes, saw something that changed his mind, and nodded submissively before beginning to ladle the work into the flask.

 _No,_ she said.

 _Ginevra_ , Tom said in a voice that she would have called wheedling if it had come from anyone else, _You don't want to die._

 _I don't want to die at the hands of your crazed other self,_ she agreed. _So maybe we could work on finding all the other bits of your soul and undoing them?_

 _We will,_ Tom said _, but at least consider my suggestion. It's not even that difficult._

Ginny could feel her headache get worse. _Can we talk about this later_? she asked.

 _Of course_. Tom was suddenly all consideration and he glared at their slow-moving partner and raised his hand.

"Miss Weasley?" Professor Snape asked with a tired sneer. "You have a question?"

"I don't feel well," Tom said. "As my assignment is done, may I go back to my room and lie down?"

Snape made a show of inspecting the potion as Tom drooped and looked as weak as possible despite the fact he wasn't the one with the headache and he didn't feel the slightest bit off. Snape looked at their lab partner, currently scrubbing at the sink, and said, "Well, I know who did all the work, hissing instructions into incompetent ears, but fine, Miss Weasley, you may go back to your room and lie down."

The Dark Mark on his arm showed for a moment as he turned and the snake seemed to twist as Tom looked at it. Snape froze and glanced back at Ginny. She'd seen the movement and stared at his arm with scared eyes. The man's wide, black sleeve covered the Mark again, but she'd seen it move in response to Tom, and clearly Snape had felt it. His eyes narrowed and he studied her for a moment before shrugging and suggesting, in tones as bitter as rue, that she remove herself at once before she embarrass herself by fainting. "That is a habit of yours, isn't it, Miss Weasley?"

Some of her roommates sniggered, but when she looked at them their faces had been schooled into nearly blank expressions of indifferent concern. Tom faded away and let her regain control, though that brought her pounding head into full focus. "Thank you, sir," she said before snatching up her bag and hurrying from the classroom.


	41. Chapter 41 - Lunch with Narcissa

"And how is your year going?" Narcissa asked. Ginny looked down at the table and tried to smile but she was so tired. The nightmares had been getting worse, and the Easter holiday had come with more attention from Fred and George than she wanted. It took more self-control than she cared to admit not to turn on them, screech that they needed to leave her alone, and hurt them, hurt them, hurt them. She could do it so easily. She'd been grateful to get away from them for lunch with Draco's mum, grateful to escape, but now that she was here it was all she could do to keep from yawning.

"It's fine," she said. "I study a lot."

"Yes," Narcissa said. "And next year is your OWLs, of course, and before you know it you'll be an adult out in the world."

Ginny nodded. The plate in front of her held a sandwich fit for a queen with crisps, and the lemonade in her glass had never seen powder. Everything was luxurious and perfect and all she wanted to do was cry. She had a bruise on one shin where Fred had slammed into her from behind on the stairs. "Sorry," he'd said as he pushed his way past. "My mistake."

Tom's endless suggestions of murder didn't help.

"I was thinking," Narcissa said with her the airy charm that had been absent since the return of Lord Voldemort, "that we should take a trip to the seaside this summer. Draco mentioned you had a little spelunking you wanted to do. Poor boy seemed aghast at the idea - an adventurous soul he's isn't, poor lad - but I think it might be quite the thing. Fresh sea air fixes so many things."

Tom stilled within her. _The cave?_

Ginny looked up at Narcissa, her eyes too wide. "I… that would be nice," she said. "You don't have to - "

"Oh, nonsense," Narcissa said. "I like the shore. We'll have a picnic. You can go exploring."

 _She knows,_ Tom said.

 _That isn't possible._

 _Draco knows, and she's smart_ , he said more insistently. _This is too convenient_.

 _But Draco doesn't know why we want to go to the shore,_ Ginny hissed at him in her head. It was one thing to tell Draco about Tom. It was a necessary thing given how obvious Tom was about it. He'd never cared about Blaise, and, of course, back when she'd been dating Blaise he hadn't been in her head all the time anyway. Now the idea of making him leave seemed akin to cutting off her own arm which meant he was there when she kissed Draco and there when she did a bit more than kissing, and he wasn't always there as a passenger. Draco could always tell who he was with, and he seemed endlessly delighted by the magic of the whole thing.

Trusting Draco with Tom's existence was one thing, but horcruxes were another. Horcruxes needed to be kept secret.

She shook her head as if she could make Tom be quiet with the motion and smiled as blandly as she could at Narcissa. The smile had to be too shaky, and she had to have seen the way she'd gone blank for a moment as she argued with Tom, but she gave no sign anything seemed amiss. "Have you ever been?" she asked. "To the shore, I mean?"

"Of course." Ginny could feel her spine stiffen at that. Her family was _poor_ but they weren't _that_ poor. They'd been to the shore several times.

"Modern Muggle bathing costumes are horrific," Narcissa said as though that were what she had meant. "I'll have a a witchy one sent over to you. I saw a darling little outfit in Madam Malkins last week. The blue would look adorable with your hair."

"Thank you." Ginny knew that would make her mother waver between livid that they didn't need handouts, especially not from the likes of the Malfoys, and relieved that it was one more thing she didn't need to buy, and Narcissa's taste would be flawless. Whatever this outfit was, it would be conservative enough that Molly Weasley wouldn't be able to say no to it and well-made enough that every perfect stitch would be a rebuke. _You cannot afford to get your daughter appropriate clothing,_ it would say. _Therefore, I will do it._

 _You and fashion_ , Tom said with disdain. _As long as the thing is functional, I don't see why it matters what it looks like._

 _That's because you're an idiot._

"Now that that is taken care of," Narcissa was saying, "I was going to ask you about your brother."

"Ron?" Ginny looked at her with confusion. Even for Narcissa Malfoy that was a sharp conversational shift, and while she knew Draco rather resented Ron for existing and for being Potter's friend, and for all sorts of nonsensical male reasons, she doubted Narcissa cared all that much about her son's schoolboy hatreds unless they impinged on her own well being.

"No," Narcissa said. "Percy."

 _The tedious one._

 _Shut up._

"I… yes?" Ginny managed to get out.

"Lucius has been meaning to dip his toe back into politics, and he wanted to know if your brother was a steady sort. Reliable. Old friends are always happy to give him an office at the Ministry, and he'll be looking for an assistant, bit of a personal secretary."

"I think he was working with Crouch," Ginny said. She knew, of course, that that was exactly what Percy had been doing. She knew all the ins and outs of his politics, good and bad.

"Oh, well, if he would be up to shifting around," Narcissa said. "I wouldn't want Lucius to hurt his career."

Ginny shoved the nearly screaming Tom back into the far corners of her mind. He was thrilled with what this meant. The Malfoys were taking more of an interest. They were openly aligning themselves. He was giving her a headache with his enthusiasm about how _this_ was how you got followers, and he should have known Abraxas' son would know who the real Lord Voldemort was, and it wasn't that monster. He was the one, and her too, and they would rule everything, and all they had to do was destroy the horcruxes and this Narcissa Malfoy knew and she was planning to help.

Ginny reached a hand up and rubbed at her temple. "No," she said. "I think Percy would be thrilled. I could write to him, if you wanted."

"That would be lovely," Narcissa said. She stood up. "Would you mind horribly if we stopped at the bank before I sent you home? I have a tiny errand to do in my sister's vault. It fell into my keeping when she was sent away and I like to check on it now and then and it's just so close to here. We won't be but a minute."

"No," Ginny said as graciously as she could. "Of course I don't mind."

. . . . . . . . .

 ** _A/N - And this finally reaches the place where the material is wholly new and not a revised version of the earlier story._**


	42. Chapter 42 - Gringotts

Going with Narcissa Malfoy to visit some overflowing family vault hadn't really been on Ginny's list of things she wanted to do that day, but it would have been too rude to refuse so she fixed the sweetest smile on her face that she could and accompanied the woman to Gringotts.

Being rich, Ginny noticed, got you significantly different treatment at the goblin bank. When she had gone with her parents the goblins had peered at them over spectacles with scornful looks. They had been asked for identification, and that identification had been examined as if it had to be forged. Every squint, every grumble, every silent glance had conveyed the message that they didn't belong and weren't welcome. Narcissa, on the other hand, was greeted by title and name. She was asked if she would like anything to drink while she waited for someone to be available to take them down to the vaults. Then she was showered with apologies that it had taken all of five minutes for someone to free himself up. She barely seemed to notice the courtesies, though she smiled and thanked everyone and told them that, really, it was no trouble at all to wait.

In her world, these little niceties were so commonplace she took them for granted. Ginny tried not to feel bitter at that.

 _That's what I want for you_ , Tom whispered in the back of her mind.

 _You mean for us_ , she answered him sourly.

 _Well, yes_ , he said. _Marry that boy and all of this shall be yours. Ours._

 _I think I'd rather have it on my own_ , Ginny muttered, if one could be said to mutter to the back of one's own mind. Tom radiated smugness at that but managed not to say anything.

A goblin showed them to an elevator and they began the descent into the deepest part of the underground tombs. The looted wealth of centuries hid behind every door. Did Bill ever ask about the way he searched through tombs for more to add to this, she wondered? Did he feel guilt he was carrying away someone else's treasure to add to Britain's stockpiles, or did he shrug those concerns away?

She didn't think he'd welcome questions about it. Little sisters were supposed to take the presents older brothers brought home and not worry.

The goblin led them to a single door, asked Narcissa to ring when she wished to go back to the surface, and disappeared.

A hoard that wouldn't have given a fairy tale dragon cause for shame sat in the middle of a stone chamber. No one had fretted over the morality of accumulating this, that was certain. Rings, coins, ropes of pearls were just piled up haphazardly and Ginny, who'd watched her mother count knuts with a worried frown she tried to hide, bit her lip and said nothing.

Narcissa ignored all of it, pulled out her wand and said simply, " _Accio_ cup."

Ginny tried not to react. Tom stirred uneasily in the back of her mind. A small golden cup with a badger prancing along one side flew out from behind an open chest of loose gem stones, snagged itself briefly on a carpet that was probably priceless, then flung itself into Narcissa's waiting hand.

"Well," Narcissa said, "I don't suppose you have any idea how to destroy them, do you?"

Ginny could feel her mouth drop open and she closed it rapidly and tried to regain her composure as she stared at the elegant, blonde woman holding the golden cup – the horcrux - in her hand. "I'm sorry," she said as she cast around for something to say. "I'm not quite sure what you mean.

"It's not that I object to Dark magic, of course," Narcissa said. She tapped a manicured figured out against the beautiful cup and regarded it with something that looked like sorrow. "And it's a beautiful piece of work, a valuable bit of our history, but if a certain someone has contaminated it, well, we burn out wasps' nests, don't we? Even if they are in our favorite trees."

"I thought," Ginny began, not sure what to say. She'd known since Voldemort had returned that he terrified Narcissa. Draco's mother obviously hated having to play hostess to a monster. But that hadn't meant she'd anticipated this. She was tired. Her head hurt. She needed to focus and think and all she could do was stare at the cup in Narcissa's hand.

"You weren't foolish enough to have bought into that rot that only the Gryffindors are brave, were you?" Narcissa asked. "You strike me as a very brave young woman yourself, though not, perhaps, as fool hardy the sort Dumbledore prefers in his chosen House."

When Ginny still didn't respond, Narcissa went on, "What, exactly, do you think that I gain from having a barely coherent madman as a figurehead."

 _Not quite a figurehead_ , Tom said.

Ginny repeated that aloud. "Figurehead?"

"Indeed," Narcissa said with approval. "And that's the problem, isn't it? If he were willing to just be a terrifying boogie man it wouldn't be, perhaps, so bad. But he has delusions of competence."

"And so, you're willing to help me?" Ginny half asked. She had one hand on her wand ready to attack the other woman at the slightest sign of risk. Narcissa was talented, and older, and more experienced. She'd already lived through one war, but Ginny had Tom Riddle tucked away in the back of her head and that was a secret weapon the other woman couldn't possibly know about. That had to give her the advantage.

"Of course," Narcissa said smoothly. "Though, perhaps I should clarify. You are trying to destroy Tom Riddle's horcruxes, are you not?"

"I am," Ginny said her eyes still on the pretty golden cup with the dancing badger on it. She reached down into her bag, down past the Bernie Botts beans, and down past a spare pair of knickers because it was always good to be prepared and you never knew what your monthly would show up unasked for, and down even past the crumbled notes from last year's transfiguration class and there, settled in the bottom of her ratty purse, her fingers closed around the sheathed dagger that Tom had made.

Before Narcissa could change her mind, Ginny snatched the cup from her hand and slammed the dagger into it. Black smoke poured out and with it that horrible, familiar hissing voice.

"Your entire family is unstable," the voice whispered and Ginny jerked back and stared at it for a moment because, while there many things she would say about her parents and her brothers, that they were unstable wasn't one of them.

"You'll go just as mad as your mother," it whispered, "and that sweet little son will follow in all their footsteps, just as doomed as Sirius and Bella. It's in the blood. You can't escape your fate."

Narcissa had turned an unearthly white and taken an almost involuntary step back from the chalice. Ginny slammed the dagger into it again and then again trying to silence it.

"I'm right," the smoke whispered before the entire thing crumbled into mud and dust. "You'll see."

"You can't believe a thing a horcrux says," Ginny said into the echoes of that final taunt. "They lie by their very nature."

"Of course," Narcissa said. She ran her fingers over her robes with tidy precision, though a tiny quiver exposed her nerves. "That is quite right. It is just that my sister, Bellatrix, poor woman, was never well. Even as a child she had fits of temper where she would scream herself into exhaustion. I'm sure after her time in prison she has fallen into… it was a very well-done bit of manipulation."

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said. The words were automatic and polite.

" _Accio_ bracelet," Narcissa said, moving on from the painful discussion of her sister. That topic died as surely as the horcrux.

They were attacked by flying jewelry. Bracelets with stones in them, bracelets that were just golden chain, bracelets with dangly bits that hung off them all came hurtling out of the pile. Narcissa plucked one from the air and held it out toward Ginny.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

Ginny stared at the alternating strand of emeralds and some sort of shiny black rock. "It's lovely," she said.

"Good," Narcissa said. "Black family heirloom, of course. As you can see, we aren't exactly hurting for them."

"What's it for?" Ginny asked completely confused by this point.

"Well, it's for you," Narcissa said with a suddenly delighted smile. "I do need some sort of excuse for coming down here, after all. I could hardly tell the goblins what we were really doing."

. . . . . . . . .

 **A/N – Thank you for your ongoing support for this little story. I so appreciate it.**


	43. Chapter 43 - The Daily Prophet

Ginny stopped Hermione in the hall before they went into breakfast the first day back from the Easter holiday. "Two down," she said. She knew both the smug pleasure she felt and her tone were childish. She shouldn't taunt one of her few allies in this endeavor, but she couldn't help herself. Hermione Granger irritated her. Her mother fawned on her, and her brothers all flirted with her, and she flounced around the school with her nose in the air as though having great marks made her a queen.

 _You're_ _the_ _queen,_ Tom whispered. _Not_ _this_ _chit._

Hermione Granger narrowed her eyes and pushed the red band holding her unruly hair off your face a little further back.

"Over vacation," Ginny said. "I got the cup."

She'd hoped that Hermione Granger would be petulant and angry that she had managed to destroy two of the horcruxes while she - the girl Harry Potter openly called the brightest in the school - hadn't gotten any. She was disappointed. Hermione just stuck her tongue out one side of her mouth and focused on the problem. "That's two down, five to go," she said. "And we know the trophy wasn't one."

"Right," Ginny said.

"Well, that's good progress at least," Hermione said. "Congratulations are in order. That can't have been a fun way to spend your holiday."

"Thank you," Ginny said, a little surprised by graciousness she knew she didn't deserve. The guilt at that made her open up a little. "I wish we knew what the other ones were."

"Well, we'll figure it out," Hermione said with a shrug that resulted in her bag sliding off her shoulder and down her arm. She gracelessly hitched it back as she talked. "I looked into the Gaunts like you suggested. Nasty family."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.

She could feel Tom stir in the back of her brain and she wished she could say it felt as though he were uncomfortable but she thought this probably counted as gloating. She knew he'd done something and it was probably something she wouldn't like.

"Poor, very poor," Hermione said with a moue of distaste she probably didn't even realize she made. Ginny stiffened under that unconscious class condemnation. "And dirty," Hermione went on. "They seem to have lived in this awful filth and squalor… your mum would have had a heart attack if she'd seen their cottage. Harry and I went to visit over the Easter break."

"Did you find anything," Ginny asked but Hermione shook her head. "The father died in Azkaban," she said. "He murdered a local. Rich fellow by the name of Tom Riddle." She arched eyebrows up and looked at Ginny expectantly. She clearly expected that name to mean something.

Ginny had no idea what to say. _Tom?_ she asked in the back of her head but, other than continuing to radiate smugness, he didn't respond.

"There was also a student at Hogwarts named Tom Riddle," Hermione said. "Remember? You tried to destroy his trophy."

"I remember," Ginny said. She didn't elaborate. She wanted Tom to show up to handle this trap closing around them but he seemed determined to let her do this one on her own. _Coward_ , she hissed at him. He ignored that too.

"Maybe a relation. Is that the tie?" Hermione asked.

"Probably," Ginny said that she knew it wasn't that. "Too bad you didn't find anything at the cottage, though. That would have made three."

"Well I'm sure we have time," Hermione said. "You-Know-Who doesn't seem to have done anything since he came back."

Ginny wished she could agree that they had time but she didn't think they did. Still, she didn't want to tell that to Hermione so she nodded and went in to find her seat at the Slytherin table. Everyone was oddly hushed. The platters of food laying on the centers of the long wooden tables were as lush and overflowing as ever. The smell of the bacon was just as tempting. Despite all that, no one was talking and no one seemed to be eating.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.

Pansy shoved a copy of _The_ _Daily_ _Prophet_ toward her and for moment she became even more confused. Pansy wasn't a sort of girl who took the paper. Once she looked at the cover story she understood.

Break out from Azkaban.

She read it once and then again. The words hadn't changed. The impossible had happened. An irrational part of her brain wanted to blame Hermione Granger, though this had already happened - this paper had even been printed already - when Hermione had made her cavalier claim that Voldemort wasn't doing anything much yet.

Only breaking his insane followers out of prison. Only freeing a woman even his sister called 'unwell.' No, he wasn't doing much at all.

Ginny looked up at Draco. She'd never seen him look more miserable.

 _This_ _is_ _your_ _fault_ , Ginny said to Tom.

 _I_ _don't_ _see_ _how_ , he said. _I_ _didn't_ _break_ _them_ _out._

 _You_ _did_ _though_ , she said. _And_ _you_ _know_ _it._

 _I_ _am_ _not_ _the_ _same_ _person,_ Tom said with more anger than she'd ever heard in express on the subject. He didn't care like that at all. _I_ _have_ _the_ _common_ _sense_ _not_ _to_ _break_ _crazy_ _people_ _out_ _of_ _prison._

 _They're your followers,_ she said.

 _Not mine._

"What do we do?" Draco asked. He sounded lost and Ginny lurched to the realization that the place these people would have gone was his home. The Malfoy estate would be the first place the ministry would look but also the easiest place to hide a group of fugitives.

Theo reached over and tugged on one of her ponytails but the gesture was half-hearted at best and, when she met his eyes, they were bleak and shuttered. "We survive," he said. "What else is there to do?"

"Right," Draco said. "We do whatever we have to so we survive."

 _These_ _are_ _excellent_ _followers,_ Tom said. He felt smug again, and pleased with himself. _Not like his. They have a_ _willingness_ _to_ _do_ _anything_ _combined_ _a_ _complete_ _lack_ _of_ _initiative. We_ _did_ _well_ _with_ _these_ _two._

 _Shut_ _up,_ Ginny said. She wanted to slap him but that was self-defeating not to mention awkward.

 _Are_ _you_ _planning_ _to_ _do_ _nothing_ _but_ _survive?_ Tom asked.

 _I'm_ _going_ _to_ _kill_ _you_ , she said to him.

 _The_ _other_ _me_ , Tom said. He might have been confirming who she meant.

 _The_ _other_ _you_ , she agreed.

 _Who will you_ _be after?_ he asked. _The_ _princess_ _who_ _slayed_ _the_ _monster. That's who. No one will_ _resist_ _the_ _poetry_ _of_ _making_ _a_ _girl_ _like that queen._

Ginny picked up a slice of break and buttered it with fierce concentration. She didn't want to talk to him, or anyone. Her stomach churned, but going hungry wasn't going to solve anything.

Two down, she thought, and nothing at the Gaunt cottage.

 _Two_ _down_ , he agreed, though she hadn't been talking to him. He tried to pour himself coffee but she held control of the body and made him drink pumpkin juice. The petty victory over the wrong Voldemort gave her enough satisfaction she could force down the toast.

She hoped Draco would be okay.


	44. Chapter 44 - The Shore

"Well isn't this nice," Narcissa said as she smoothed away one wrinkle that had dared to appear on the picnic blanket and smiled with beatific calm at the children surrounding her. The shore was nice, the wind was calm, and the sound of the waves soothing. If you could have shopped for holiday weather, this was what you would have picked. Narcissa looked so satisfied she might have done just that. "Warm and pleasant and calm."

"Very nice, ma'am," Ginny said with as much of a smile as she could summon. She didn't feel warm despite the sun shining down on them. She didn't feel calm. She felt nervous. She had a constant churning in her gut that had led her to avoid the papers and the news. It didn't help. The clouds looming just over the horizon gathered their darkness and took no notice of her or her attempts to ignore them.

Tom Riddle itched in the back of her brain and as did the news of the Azkaban breakout and the murmured voices that her parents quickly hushed whenever she came into the room at home. Everything was tense. Everything screamed at her to do something, do anything. Meanwhile, the Chosen One didn't seem to be doing much of anything and his research sidekick still less. They read books and they talked about Dumbledore which would have been fine if they weren't doing it in her hearing.

Dumbledore, who wanted Harry to go on a trip with him. Dumbledore, who wasn't talking to Harry which meant the world was terrible, or who was which meant the world was fair and good. Harry's emotional world seem to revolve around whether or not Dumbledore had said hello to him and Ginny, who had inherited a general dislike of the old man from Tom and had become afraid of him on her own account after he'd returned her knife to her, didn't want to hear it.

She didn't care about Dumbledore. Waiting for Dumbledore to do anything was a fool's choice. That Harry's ability to function so hinged on Dumbledore was another itch, and one she couldn't scratch.

"Yes," she said again to Narcissa. "It's very nice."

Draco smiled at her and pushed an errant lock of blonde hair out of his eyes. Theodore with his usual haphazard smile draped in arm around the eternally distracted Luna. They were all pretending. They were all trying to be normal.

"The next generation of wizard and leaders," Narcissa said. "I am indeed the luckiest mother."

Ginny's mother didn't think Narcissa was the luckiest. She'd said she felt sorry for the woman, all alone in that big house with only the one child to love. _Money can't buy family_ , Molly would say. Ginny knew comments like that were directed at her. Money might not buy family, but it bought food and clothes and security.

Ginny looked for a way to change the subject.

She settled on saying, "Thank you for inviting us. It's nice to get out."

"Yes, it is," Narcissa said. She was still smoothing the blanket and brushing sand off one corner. "But you children cannot possible want to spend all of your time chatting with an old lady. You should go for walk and explore the countryside."

 _Get up_ , Tom said, not one to pass up an invitation to do what he wanted to do anyway. _I can take you right to the cave._

Ginny nodded and stood up. She reached her hand down for Draco but, to her surprise, it was Luna who grabbed it and allowed herself to be pulled up.

"I love exploring," she said. "You never know what you're going to find. Some of the greatest naturalists in history found things when they were just going on strolls. Yesterday I was reading a story about a woman who went out to clear her garden of gnomes and under a bush found a hole that led down into a series of caverns used by fishwives during the witch trials to smuggle children to safety."

Ginny was fairly sure that whatever she had found had probably been used to hide alcohol or some other illicit substance. The romantic interpretation struck her as unlikely at best, but she nodded. It was never worth arguing with Luna. Besides, her necklace had fallen out of the shirt she had on over her bathing costume and Ginny could feel Tom's interest stir. A little triangle with a circle and line didn't seem especially interesting to Ginny but, prompted by Tom she asked what he was so eager to know. "What's your necklace?"

Luna reached her fingers up and ran them along the outside of the metal triangle. "It's the Hallows," she said. "The symbol of conquering death."

The way the Tom became excited at the idea of yet another way to drag himself toward immortality was almost irritating. _Ask her more_ , he urged. _What does she know_.

 _She probably doesn't know anything_ , Ginny snapped at him. _Fishwives and missing children and romance, that's all._

Tom took over the body. "Where did you get it?" he asked with false brightness. Ginny mentally crossed her arms and glared at him from inside her head but he took no notice.

"My father gave it to me," Luna said. She dropped the necklace back down and seem to completely lose interest. "Shall we go for a hike?" she asked.

Tom almost ground his teeth in frustration. "That would be great," Ginny said, reasserting control. She looked over at the Theo and Draco where they sat. "Are either of you coming?"

Theo languidly reached into the picnic hamper that Narcissa had brought with them and pulled out sandwiches and a bottle of butter beer. "I think I'm good," he said. "Wandering around on the rocks and poking my head into dark caves doesn't really appeal to me. I don't like secrets."

"I know enough secrets already," Draco said.

The words were bitter and ugly and angry and for a very brief moment Ginny could see the toll that having to let strangers into his house was taking on him.

 _I hate your followers_ , she said to Tom, but her eyes lingered on Draco and cataloged the way bags had appeared under his eyes and darkened over the summer holiday, and the way his skin no longer looked like alabaster porcelain but like death.

 _I quite see your point_ , Tom said. _He looks a bit peaked_.

 _A bit_? Ginny asked.

"Stop talking to yourself," Luna said. "Let's go for our walk. Perhaps we will find the bones of a child that never made it to safety from the days of the witch hunts."

 _She is so morbid_ , Tom grumbled but as her interests overlapped with his own he made no protest as the pair of girls picked their way towards the cliff and began to clamber down the rocks like a pair of hardy mountain goats.

. . . . . . . . .

 **A/N – Thank you for your patience with the update times!**


	45. Chapter 45 - The Cave

The cave itself wasn't especially remarkable. Tom took over and led the way there with the sure-footed steps of a boy who'd spent a lot of time clambering up-and-down rocks, or, more likely, narrow stairways and over fences. Orphans in war-torn London weren't the sort of people who never climbed fences or went where they oughtn't.

Luna followed behind, stopping now and then to peek under rocks and look for small creatures. At first Ginny had been concerned that Luna would be in the way or ask too many questions but as they picked their way along she came to agree with Tom's assessment that the dreamy blonde was a much safer a companion than Draco. Living with the escaped Death Eaters was pushing him to an emotional breaking point and who knew how he'd react to a horcrux.

Probably badly.

The clear-eyed and unsentimental Theo would ask too many question and he wouldn't stop until he got answers.

Luna was the better choice. She could be counted on to keep her mouth shut and, if she did say anything, people would dismiss it as one of her bizarre conspiracy theories. A girl who claimed the Minister of Magic was a vampire was not someone people took seriously, however brilliant she might be.

When they reached the cave Tom led them in, through a narrow corridor and up to a rock wall. He placed one hand along the smooth expanse of rock and seemed to listen to the magic echoing deep within it.

 _What is it_? Ginny asked.

 _Blood magic_ , Tom answered. He seemed almost distracted, as if he were fascinated by what his later self had wrought. _It's nice work_ he said when she mentally tapped her foot at him. _I'm good_.

 _Yes, great. You're brilliant_ , Ginny said. _Now what_?

"Do you have a knife?" Tom asked out loud.

Luna blinked her protruding grey eyes a few times and then reached down into a pocket.

 _We have our knife_ , Ginny said to him. She had brought the dagger with them the way because she brought it everywhere now. After her encounter with the cup in the Black family vault she had decided you never knew when a horcrux would rear its ugly head. Better to be prepared.

 _You want to cut yourself with that_? Tom asked. _It kills horcruxes, and guess what I am_.

Ginny shuddered.

"Who are you talking to?" Luna asked as she finished a small knife out of her pocket and handed it over.

Worried now that she might accidentally kill Tom Ginny examined the blade for the telltale marks of immersion in basilisk venom. It looked like nothing more than a cheap knife. There was no real danger.

"Talking to?" Ginny asked. She flinched as Tom took the knife and made a shallow cut along their palm. "I'm talking to you."

"No," said Luna. She seemed to study the way Ginny reacted. "You got distracted the way people do when they're trying to formulate a response and they want to be clever."

Ginny bit at the inside of her mouth and then said as repressively as she could, "I have a friend inside my head."

"Oh," Luna said as though that were totally normal. "That sounds nice. As long as you have a friend in your head, you're never alone."

It wasn't the response Ginny had expected, or Tom either for that matter. He stopped his machinations with smearing blood on the wall of the rock cavern and looked back at Luna. She blinked at him and smiled. "Hi, Ginny's friend."

The rock wall disappeared, the blood sacrifice made.

"It is nice," Ginny said before Tom could say anything. "He's nice." Nice didn't seem like quite the right word but she didn't really want to go into it.

Luna nodded knowingly. "People are complicated", she said. "Shall we go in?"

The cavern wound deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of the rocks until it ended at a dreary, dark lake. Ginny had never seen a less inviting body of water. A single boat was tied at one end and a morbid, hideous dripping echoed far too loudly in the oppressive silence. Each plop of the water increased her urge to scream, "Just stop" at whatever stalactite was busy making itself. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

 _Don't touch the water_ , Tom said.

 _Why_ , Ginny asked. Not that she wanted to. Her very soul recoiled from the idea of putting so much as a toe in the dark, dank lake.

 _I would have left monsters in the lake_ , Tom said.

 _I really hate you sometimes,_ she said.

She could feel his shrug and then the way he stretched his senses out, poking and prodding the air with his mind – with _her_ mind – trying to find what he'd done.

She couldn't feel anything.

 _We need to work on your ability to sense dark magic_ , he said, shifting into teacher mode at the worst possible moment. _The use of dark magic changes the world where the wizard worked the spell and if you listen very carefully you can feel the echoes. The air you are breathing in and out has been changed with dark magic, can't you tell_?

 _No_ , she said shortly. _Maybe the taste of you in my mouth has left me insensitive to the subtler nuances of evil._

Tom laughed. She felt both annoyed and gratified that he found that funny.

"We shouldn't touch the water," she said to Luna. Whatever Tom's annoying quirks and opinions were, she figured she should pass along the useful information.

"The ink in my swimming costume will run if I get it wet," Luna said. "I was trying a new dye recipe out and I don't think that I have it quite right yet."

Ginny decided not to ask what was the point of a fabric dye that couldn't get wet.

They took the boat very carefully across the lake to a small island. The way it propelled itself impressed Ginny until Tom's smugness at his own skills bled into her mind. Then she felt annoyed again. Boys were so vain.

On the island stood a small dais holding an ornate goblet. They could see a locket at the bottom, covered with liquid.

 _Salazar Slytherin_ _'_ _s locket_ , Tom said. He squirmed with the same excitement he'd felt when they'd found the diadem. This wasn't just an artifact of any founder, though, this was one he felt personally connected to. He wanted it, and the tiniest part of his longing spread into Ginny until she wanted it to. She burned to have it. She ought to have it. She _deserved_ it. No one else did. It was meant for them and them alone.

She took a deep breath and waited. At last, the overwhelming emotion seem to dilute and dissolve and diminish leaving just the faintest hint of his desire behind. She could think again.

There seemed no doubt this one was a horcrux.

"I think we should get that locket", Luna said. "What's an adventure without a souvenir?"

"How?" Ginny asked. That poison filled the cup seemed obvious.

 _Maybe I can just reach in,_ Tom said. _Maybe it will think I am the owner._

 _You are_ , Ginny said.

 _Not quite_ , he said.

It was worth a try, however, so she let him wholly have the body. He reached his fingers towards the cup, then pulled back. _It senses you_ , he said. _Hide._

She tucked her way as far back into her head as she could, trying to disappear the way he had when they'd met Voldemort. How small could she be? How invisible could she make herself? She went further and further away and he dipped his fingers into the cup. She could feel the way it hated her but it lapped up against him, an evil puppy recognizing its evil master.

She had to almost kill the spark of herself, and when she almost didn't exist and Tom was whole of their body and the whole of their soul, he reached in and pulled the locket free. He sucked in his breath with triumph and clenched his fist around the locket, around the piece of his soul.

He wanted it more than she'd ever felt him want anything. The casual lust he felt when they kissed Draco was nothing compared to this. He let out a shuddering groan at the sheer pleasure holding the locket brought him.

That was a moment where she was afraid he would keep her locked away in a dark corner of her own mind, a prisoner within her own soul. She could feel him considering it, and then he said to her, his mental voice too controlled, _I don't think I can stab this one_.

Released, she clawed her way back to the top, pulled out her knife, and cut at the horcrux with all the fear she had felt in that moment when he had considered never letting her out again, with all the anger she felt that Draco was suffering under the thumb of Tom's future self's minions, with all the resentment she felt about her family. She cut and she slashed and black smoke rose out of the locket and hissed at her in fury.

"You're nothing but a vessel to him, you stupid girl, and when he doesn't need you anymore, he'll cast you out and you'll spend eternity locked in a corner of his soul, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to tell anyone of your torment"

She kicked the locket into the lake

"Well," Luna said as she looked at a ghostly white hand reaching out to snatch the locket and pull it under the water. "That was interesting."


	46. Chapter 46 - A Talk with Fred

Ginny pulled the brush through her hair with enough force that when it caught on a tangle and she yanked it hurt.

 _Do you mind?_ Tom asked. _I am in here._

 _Baby_ , she muttered.

Three days left. The summer had spun away from them in a whirlwind of warm days and chores and she had three days left before the return to Hogwarts. It would be her fifth year. O.W.L.s. How was she supposed to concentrate on exams with a monster at loose? How was she supposed to think about anything else?

 _You know,_ Tom said, _I hate to state the obvious here, but I did already pass them_ _and_ _I was considered a bit of a prodigy._

 _Oh, we both know you're brilliant,_ she said. Was he more annoying when he was being falsely modest or when he was reveling in how clever he was? It was hard to tell. Boys, in general, were awful and she missed Draco so much she wanted to cry. You didn't exactly write long letters to people who lived with Voldemort and Bellatrix. _Stop being so coy about it_ , she added.

Tom, of course, felt the truth under her words. _We'll see him this week_ , he said.

 _Assuming you haven't killed him_ , she muttered.

 _I wouldn't,_ Tom said.

 _You wouldn't,_ she agreed, but his other self didn't have any feelings for the blond aristocrat. Who knew what he might do.

 _My point,_ Tom said, _was that I can take the O.W.L.s for you._

"That's cheating _,_ " she said. She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until Fred stuck his head into her room.

"Talking to yourself now? I guess it's true that everyone in Sytherin is crazy."

"Go fuck yourself," she said.

That was startling enough that Fred did a bit of a double take and really looked at her, possibly for the first time in years. She knew she didn't look much like one of them anymore. Narcissa had slowly but surely filled her wardrobe in with simple things made with the kind of quality that screamed money. Her mother went about the house in a robe covered in flowers, then stuck a handmade cardigan on top of that. Ginny sat in a pair of black trousers with a tight corset over them, sandals on her feet that had been handmade in Italy. She pulled her hair back into a braid, one strand folded over the other, and then fastened the end with a butterfly clip that had a real emerald chip for the eye. A silent spell, courtesy of Tom who remained better at anything wordless and wandless, made sure it wouldn't slip out.

"You've grown up," Fred said slowly.

"Surprise," she said. "People do that, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Ginny," he said, and she could almost see him looking for the right words to say. "I've been listening to Mum and Dad and things are getting bad."

Tom let out a rude snort inside her head. _He's just noticed that, has he?_

"That crowd you run with… they aren't a good place to be right now. You need to come home, back to your family."

"Does family include Percy?" she asked with faux innocence. She knew it didn't. Percy had taken a job at the Ministry that connected him directly to Draco's father. It was an immense opportunity for him, and though he was buried under long hours and hard work she knew he was thrilled. All Lucius had had to do was appreciate him and Percy had been won over.

Fred didn't answer that. He did reach over to try to tug the fancy clip out of her hair, and she jerked out of his reach. "You should know where your loyalty lies," he said.

"Oh, I do," she said.

They stared at one another.

"So that's how it is," he said.

She felt anger well up, and behind it hurt and the urge to strike out, to curse him, to make him regret everything. She pushed that away and said, her voice so cold even Tom felt impressed, "You've been hexing me for years, Fred. You, and George. What makes you think I owe you anything?"

"Because we're family. Because blood is thicker than water."

 _So it comes down to blood purity for him too,_ Tom said. _Interesting._

 _Shut up._

"You don't want to see what will happen if you stay a snake," Fred said. He'd pulled his wand out and was rolling it back and forth between his palms without any sort of overt threat but the meaning was still clear. That meaning stoked the rage she'd been trying to contain over years of slights and jinxes. Tom almost purred in the background as she bit her cheek, told herself the prudent thing to do was to keep her mouth shut, then decided not to. Caution be damned. She was from a family of Gryffindors, after all. She did have a bit of a wild streak in her DNA, and didn't they prefer the attack direct? They claimed subterfuge was deceitful. Was dishonest. Was evil. Maybe he'd prefer it if she acted like one of them and spelled out the things any Slytherin would have known went without saying.

"I'm going to finish Hogwarts soon enough," she said in a low voice. "Pretty soon no one will care if I draw a wand outside school, and if you ever threaten me, or hex me, again, you will regret it."

Fred stopped rolling his wand and pointed it at her. "Big words from a little girl," he said.

Tom whispered _expelliarmus_ in their head and she reached her hand up and grabbed Fred's wand as it tumbled through the air to her. She might not be Harry Potter, the Chosen One, youngest seeker in a hundred years, but she could still catch. Fred's eyes widened, then narrowed.

"They don't teach that until your N.E.W.T. year," he said. "What books have you been reading down there in your dungeon?"

She tossed the wand back at him. Hard. "I'm clever," she said. "Stay out of my way."

"We're clever too," Fred said. "Don't ally yourself with Voldemort, Ginny."

She looked at him, pushed her hand toward him, and used voiceless, wandless magic to slam the door in his face before letting out a nearly hysterical laugh. Don't ally yourself with Voldemort. It was a little late for that.

 _I'm not Voldemort,_ Tom said.

 _Whatever_.

He huffed, then said, _So, am I taking the O.W.L.s for you this year or not?_


	47. Chapter 47 - The Hogwarts Express

It was a relief to get on the Hogwarts Express. It was a relief to part ways from Ron and Harry – always Harry – who went off with Hermione to find their own compartment and talk about their own, worthless plans. At least, she hoped they'd spare a thought for how to kill Voldemort. Harry, at least, should have motivation to get on it. Voldemort wanted to kill him. If Voldemort spared her any thought at all, it was that she looked properly afraid and was polite.

 _You aren't polite at all,_ Tom said. _And, as I am immersed in your thoughts all the time, I think of you quite a bit._

 _You want to go back in the diary?_

He disappeared into the shadows of thoughts you shoved away and pretended you didn't have and she found the compartment with Draco and the rest. Pansy scooted over when she arrived, and Luna plopped herself onto Theo's lap with a vigor that made him wince. There was no way that would be comfortable for the whole trip, but Ginny took the space they made her and slid in next to Draco.

The door hitched and flew back open and she frowned at it. That could be dangerous if it happened while someone was leaning against it. _Don't lean against it,_ Tom said.

She ignored him and pulled the door shut with extra force. It slammed shut and Pansy laughed. It was a nervous, brittle sound.

"Glad to be going back?" Ginny asked.

"This year will be great," Draco said with too much bravado. "I've been chosen."

There was a rustling above their heads and Ginny looked up into the luggage racks. "Did someone get a new owl or something?" she asked.

Everyone looked around and shrugged, and then the sweets cart was there and Draco made a show of buying them all enough to make them ill. "Might as well live now," he said.

Ginny snuggled up against his side and let him unwrap a chocolate frog for her. A quick glance at the frog card and Draco tossed it away, leaving Dumbledore waving at them from the floor of their compartment. Theo stepped on it and slid it away, under Pansy's bag. "Worthless old bat," he said.

They all made grumbling noises, and Draco held the wriggling frog up to Ginny's mouth. "All yours," he said.

 _Have you ever considered it's actually rather nasty to eat a bit of chocolate charmed to act alive?_

She took a big bite from one foot and the frog seemed to shudder. It gave one last good attempt to jump away, then sagged and froze, all the magic gone. Draco handed it over and she nibbled around the edges as he tried to make his summer sound good. "Oh yeah, I have a task," he said.

"For _Him_?" Pansy asked. Anyone who didn't know her would think she was awestruck and impressed. Ginny could see she was absolutely terrified.

"Yes," Draco said. "And it won't be grades that matter, or O.W.L. scores either – "

"Says the boy who got amazing ones," muttered Greg. He had to redo his.

"I'm planning on studying for mine anyway," Ginny said. She nudged Greg with her foot, a silent offer to help him out. He smiled gratefully. Not everyone could be smart and, as Tom was always on her about, you needed ditch diggers too, and they were a lot more loyal in the end.

"It'll be about the service you can offer," Draco said, plowing on with his mantra as if no one had interrupted him.

 _I know what service he can offer,_ Tom said. Ginny knew she should probably be offended at the lewd suggestions Tom flashed at her, but, in truth, if the compartment wasn't filled with their friends, she probably would have tried to figure out how to suggest some of them. Not _all_ of them. Some of them were appalling, and dark, and more frightening than titillating. Tom had spent a little time with Fred and George's magazines over the summer, it seemed. Either that or the 40s had been a lot more liberal than she'd ever considered.

 _Sex is not a recent invention_ , Tom said.

 _Oh god, would you stop_ , she said. She hooked her fingers through Draco's and squeezed. She wanted to tell him everything would be all right. She wanted to wipe the haunted look from his eyes. If she told him about the horcruxes, though, he'd end up even more frightened. She settled on distraction, and lifted her face up to his. Whatever else was driving him, he was still a teenage boy, and he let his urge to reassure himself by bragging about his importance to the Dark Lord die down for at least a little bit. By the time they needed to change into robes, her lips were swollen and the annoyed suggestions that they get a room had stopped.

"This is a room," Draco said at one point before going back to popping Bertie Botts between his teeth and then feeding them to her. "If you don't like it, leave."

Pansy did. Greg did. Theo and Luna appeared to decide if you can't make them stop, you might as well join in. The rustling above them made what might have been a gagging noise and Tom, who'd been happily enjoying the ride, got very still in her mind.

 _Ginny_ , he said.

She'd heard it too.

She climbed onto the seat and reached her hand to feel around on the luggage rack. Being so short made this awkward but Draco and Theo only watched her for a moment before they were also patting the spaces down.

"It's probably nargles," Luna said.

It wasn't nargles. Draco suddenly yanked away a handful of nothing and where there had been space and air there was a silver cloak and a scared looking Harry Potter. Theo and Draco stepped back and Ginny crossed her arms.

"Hi, Harry," Luna said. "That looks uncomfortable."

"Yes," said Ginny. "It does."

 _I could kill him_.

She ignored that.

"I knew it," Harry said. He was looking more at her than at Draco. "I knew we couldn't trust you. Ron told me that you… Hermione said… but Ron was right. It's all about Voldemort for you."

"You're an idiot," Ginny said. She was so angry she could barely speak. Had he even found one horcrux yet? She'd fed him the answers and all he cared about was Quidditch and his stupid rivalry with Draco.

"You should listen to Hermione," Luna said. "She's not very nice a lot of the time, but Ron hates his sister for getting sorted into Slytherin."

"I'll listen to Dumbledore," Harry said. "I'm his man," and then he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Theo looked at the shut door. "Huh," he said. "Dumbledore. Gryffindors get weirder every year."

. . . . . . . . . .

 **A/N – Thank you to teheminator for beta reading!**


	48. Chapter 48 - The Ring

"What's up with Dumbledore's hand?" Theo asked in a whisper. Ginny nudged him to tell him to shush, but she looked up at the head table curiously anyway. His hand had become withered and blackened. It curled helplessly on the table as he used his other hand to drink and eat.

"Huh," she said.

"You'd think he'd use magic to take care of that," Pansy said with a sniff. "It looks gross."

One of the girls in Ginny's year gave her a scathing look until Ginny glared back. Then she became fascinated by her pumpkin juice cup. _Peasant_ , Tom said.

She agreed with him, but before she could say that, yes, her roommates were thoroughly awful and when they ruled the world they'd show them, Tom added, _Could you get closer to his hand?_

 _What?_ she asked.

 _Just humor me._

She sighed, but got up to cross over to the Ravenclaw table as if she wanted to ask Luna something. By dint of taking the long way around she was able to pass by the Head Table. Snape gave her a scathing look that turned dangerously quiet. She shivered as he pulled at the edge of his sleeve while he kept his eyes on her. Dumbledore was far less attentive to another student walking about. He had his head bent toward Professor McGonagall and the deformed hand sitting on the table. Tom sucked in what couldn't be breath but habits died hard and he squirmed with pleased, if maybe somewhat worried, interest inside her skull.

"Hi Ginny," Luna said. "Looking for something?"

"Apparently," she muttered, then added, "Do you want to set up some times to study for O.W.L.s together? I thought I'd try to catch you before you headed up to your tower."

Studying with Luna was more likely to give her a headache than help preparing for the exams, and Tom's grouchy half-heard mutterings suggested he agreed, but she couldn't think of another excuse for why she'd walked over. One of the Ravenclaws moved over on the bench and then it was too rude not to sit, and she was trapped for the rest of the Opening Feast, caught between animated discussions of could you believe _Professor Snape_ was going to teach Defense, and who was this new teacher, Slughorn, and did anyone know anything about him.

Ginny was amused to discover that the Ravenclaws had file cabinets going back a hundred years with every exam every teacher had ever given. They'd have this Slughorn's examination history spread out for study in their common room within five minutes of being excused from this feast. Several of them had parents who knew him. "He likes to latch on to people who are going places," one girl said with a disparaging curl to her lip. "He's a toady."

"Yeah," said a boy, "but he knows Potions."

 _He knows a lot of things_ , Tom said. Ginny twisted to look at Slughorn. He had a waistcoat that showed beneath partially open teacher's robes that had to have cost the earth. She'd spent enough time with Narcissa Malfoy to recognize quality fabric when she saw it, even from this distance.

 _Is he one of your recruits?_ she asked a bit sourly. _Going after the old people now?_

 _He'd sell you out for a box of sugared pineapple,_ Tom said. _He's weak and greedy._

 _I thought you liked weak_ , she said, and flicked a memory of him crowing about what good followers most of the Slytherins were.

 _I like a man whose loyalty stays bought,_ Tom said. _Lucius, for example_.

She made a loud snort she had to cover with a cough. Lucius, staying bought. That was funny. He and Narcissa were eagerly selling out the scary version of Tom with no knowledge they were still loyal to the sane one. Tom scowled at that and her snorting cough got louder. One of the Ravenclaws – Michael, she thought his name was - handed her a napkin and she thanked him and made a show of coughing into it. "There's something going around," he said. "You should see Madam Pomfrey."

"Thanks," she said.

Luna looked at her with those large, grey eyes but, for once, didn't announce any ludicrous thing like Nargles were responsible or, worse, ask a probing question about the friend in her head. That friend was itching to tell her something but he managed to keep his thoughts mostly buttoned down until they were back in the Slytherin dorm unpacking her trunk, ignoring the hostile sniffs and comments about how _some_ people went at sat at the _wrong table_ during the opening feast and that was loyalty for you.

 _Could we?_ Tom didn't even bother to spit out the whole thought, and she didn't even bother to say no. No, they couldn't murder her roommates. It wasn't acceptable to go about murdering every last person who annoyed you even if they were worthless peasants and, besides, if she let Tom kill everyone who he thought deserved it the school would be a mass grave with bodies lying in rows in the Great Hall.

 _What is it?_ she asked as she smoothed each school jumper into the drawer and tucked her basilisk venom dagger under her favorite.

 _It's a horcrux_ , Tom said far too smugly.

Her hand froze on the soft knit. _What?_

 _The ring on Dumbledore's hand,_ he said. _I can feel it. It's like me._

Ginny wanted to pick up her hairbrush and hurl it at the wall in frustration. It wasn't that she didn't believe Tom. His words had the taste of raw truth but that taste curdled in her mouth. What was Dumbledore doing with a horcrux on his hand? She'd assumed they were, in the ways that really mattered, on the same side. She'd assumed he was working against Voldemort. What if the reason Harry Potter seemed so inept, so unmotivated, so downright lazy was because Dumbledore was steering him wrong at every turn? What if he and Voldemort had some sort of agreement?

 _I always hated him_ , Tom said. It wasn't an argument, exactly. It was more of a careful pause.

 _And you're never willing to use people you hate?_ she asked him. She knew he was. He knew he was. It wasn't even a point of discussion.

 _It's my family ring,_ Tom said, still cautious. _How would he have gotten it?_

 _From you?_ she suggested. _The same way Bellatrix got the cup and Lucius got the diary? Because you trusted them?_

 _This isn't good,_ Tom said.

No, she thought to herself. It wasn't good at all. She picked the dagger back up out of her drawer and put it back in her bag. It was better to be prepared.


	49. Chapter 49 - Severus Snape

The first week of classes included more lectures on preparing for O.W.L.s than anyone wanted to hear. Even Tom, who seemed far too excited about the brutal exams, began to mock the professors and their ponderous nonsense about how the stduents' whole lives hung on these tests and they needed to take them seriously and study as hard as they could. Harder. This was not the year for lollygagging or skiving off to go watch Quidditch practices.

Ginny had begun to tune them out when Severus Snape ended the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class by asking her to please stay a few minutes if she wouldn't mind. She minded a great deal but she forced a smile to her face and said of course not, it was no problem at all. Once all the other students had filed out Snape closed the door with a click that seemed very loud and her general sense of unease turned to a far more defined nervousness. "Is something wrong with my work, professor?" she asked.

 _Your work is my work and therefore it is perfect,_ Tom muttered but he knew as well as she did this wasn't about how well she cast a _protego_ or whether she'd done any reading over the summer. _Nice stall, though_.

"Your work has always been excellent," Snape said. He might have been confessing a sin the admission appeared to pain him so much. "Far beyond the scope of what I would expect in a school girl, to be quite frank, Miss Weasley."

"Are you complaining I am doing too well?" she asked. She could almost feel the Mark squirming on his arm, and she knew Tom could. Whatever magic linked him to those burnt curses on his followers hadn't been broken by his time in the diary.

"No," Snape said. "Quite the opposite. I was going to suggest you might benefit from additional tutoring in more advanced topics."

She had to keep herself from taking a step back. _He wants to figure us out,_ Tom hissed. _Say no._

 _How the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?_ she demanded.

"Are you all right?" Snape asked. "Your eyes went a bit blank for a moment, Miss Weasley. Are you suffering from petit seizures?" His tone was too malicious or her to believe for even a moment he was worried she had some seizure disorder. "You should see Madam Pomfrey if you believe that to be the case."

"I'm fine," she said, "I was just thinking about my schedule. This is my O.W.L. year, and I'm not sure -."

"I can easily assist you in that," Snape said. His smile grew almost predatory. "Though I am very sure you will not need it. I have never seen a student quite so apt – I've only even heard of one - and it would be a pity to let your skills be held back by your imbecile classmates."

"I'm really nothing special," Ginny said. "I don't want to be any sort of -."

"Bother?" Snape's fingers twitched at the cuff of his sleeve and she tried not to notice. She wasn't supposed to know about that Mark. "I can assure you, Miss Weasley, you will be no such thing."

There was no escaping this. "Then, thank you," she said.

She turned to leave and had one hand on the door when he added, his voice as smooth as glass, "A friend of mine happens to be in Britain right now. I think you might have met him at one of Narcissa Malfoy's interminable parties. Regulus Black. He's always been clever and I wanted him to look over some of your work. That won't be a problem, will it?"

"No," she said. She was sure her voice was so faint she might have been a ghost. "I look forward to it."

Snape pointed toward the door and she slipped out, managed to walk a few paces through the hall, then collapsed, shaking, against the wall. A portrait eyed her curiously and she mustered a typical look of the adolescent sullens. "Stupid teacher," she muttered so the portrait could hear and run off to Dumbledore to report. "Like I want to spend more time with him when I could be flying."

Tom was silent, never a good sign, and she decided that flying was exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to go fast and feel the wind sting her eyes and be airborne and free, even if that was an illusion. A quick trip back to the Slytherin dormitory and she had her gear on and her broom in hand. Draco, looking wan, smiled at her from whatever old book he was bent over. "Need a break already?" he asked. "It's only September. It'll get worse."

That was what she was afraid of but she gave him a quick, two-fingered salute and then sauntered off toward the pitch as if she didn't have a care in the world.

 _We don't need to worry about Regulus,_ Tom said at last. _I could tell at Narcissa Malfoy's party that he -._

 _We do,_ Ginny said. She waved to a pair of Hufflepuffs going by and they waved back. Outside the bitter personal rivalries she seemed to always be stuck in, most people at Hogwarts didn't cling to their Houses with near fanatical loyalty. She should think about grooming more people from other groups for when they took over. _He'll know you're there_ , she added. _Snape knows._

 _He doesn't know what it is._

 _He's Dumbledore's man._

 _Maybe._

She snorted. _You wait,_ she said. _He'll turn out to hate you._

 _To hate_ him _,_ Tom corrected her. _We want them all to hate him._

Arguing with him that he and Voldemort were pretty much the same person seemed pointless, and not exactly accurate anyway, so she just pointed her broom at the sky and hurled her body upward. It was cold, too cold for September surely, but she flew higher and higher. Her eyes watered and the wind tried to force her off the broom but she was Ginny Weasley and she couldn't be forced to do anything. She'd picked her House at Hogwarts, defied her family, ingratiated herself with the wealthiest purebloods in Britain. And she was going to bring down a monster, and if Severus Snape, Death Eater and Dumbledore's lackey, thought he could stop her, well, he had another thing coming. Let him bring Regulus Black in.

Let him just try to stop her.

She hadn't carried around the darkest wizard in all history in his head for several years without learning a few things.


	50. Chapter 50 - Severus and Regulus

The day Regulus Black came to Hogwarts to pretend to teach Severus' prize pupil some Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons started out wet and dreary. Clouds pushed their way in great, grey billows across the sky and the rain couldn't decide if it wanted to sputter or pour and alternated between the two until no one was sure whether they should carry rain gear or just run. Ginny had opted for running and then the rain had opted for pouring and the combination had left her wet, bedraggled, and as mad as a cat. She hauled herself, wet robes, soaking bag, and bad attitude into Severus Snape's classroom and made no effort to conceal the scowl on her face.

The professor looked her up and down, flicked his fingers dismissively at her, and all her robes dried. Her mood didn't change, and the spell didn't affect her hair, which continued to drop water down her neck. "You should share that spell with my mum," she said as snottily as she could. "She's always looking for new housewife magic."

Snape looked down his long nose at her and she shoved her jaw out in defiant response. Before he could voice some silky put down that would sting for days, a voice from behind his desk said with posh vowels, "I've always said you'd missed your calling, Severus."

"Hedge witch magic is a tremendous untapped resource," Snape said. He flicked a glance towards the man who'd spoken.

Ginny followed his gaze and recognized Regulus Black from Narcissa's Christmas party. Tom had been interested in him then, though not enough to pursue in the face of Voldemort. Now they both studied him. His face failed to be handsome by some exactly wrong alignment of cheekbones and jawline and eye shape. He should have been devastatingly attractive. Each feature taken by itself seemed flawless. When they all came together, however, they argued with one another and left a man in their wake who might have been called arresting or striking or interesting but never handsome. His grey eyes glittered with ferocious intelligence, though. "A Weasley in Slytherin," he said. "And Narcissa's protégé. Are you sure you want to take this on, Severus?" he asked. "It might be a bit above your pay grade."

"And who else do you think I should ask about it?" Snape said. "Dear Bellatrix, madder than she was before? Or maybe Amycus Carrow. I'm sure his keen mind would -."

"Albus Dumbledore?" Regulus asked. There was a wealth of meaning in that question Ginny couldn't parse out.

"He's distracted," Snape said. "And his distraction is keeping me too busy to sort this out properly."

"And yet he lives," Regulus said.

"No thanks to his own efforts," Snape said.

Ginny desperately wanted to know what they meant. She hadn't cared for adults talking above her head even when she'd been too tiny to so much as reach the dinner table on her own and now, with a monster in her head and several dead horcruxes in her past, she hated it. _I don't recommend asking_ , Tom said. _And I'm not a monster._

 _Close enough,_ she said.

"See?" Snape asked.

"Indeed." Regulus Black stood up and crossed over to where she stood and, as he frowned at her, a large drop of water that had been working its way down her hair plopped onto her skin and slid down her neck, into her robes, and along her back. She shivered and told herself it was because of that wet chill and not because two men – both Death Eaters – were watching her very carefully. Both had their hands settled way too casually on their wands, and hers was tucked down in her bag. Even with it she didn't think she and Tom could take more than one of them out. Two against one wasn't going to break her way.

 _Don't be so sure._

"Are we going to do extra help or not?" she asked. "I have a lot of homework if this was just a meet and greet thing and I'd like to – hey!"

Regulus Black and pulled her school bag over to himself and was calmly pulling her books out one at a time. Transfiguration. Defense. History. He set her wand on a student work table with great care and then, as she closed her eyes, pulled out her knife. "Pretty," he said. "Against school rules, however." He tossed it to Professor Snape who caught it far more handily than she would have predicted.

"Headmaster Dumbledore said I could have it," she said. "He had the sheath made."

Snape's brows went up as he pulled the dagger from that leather sheath and examined the blade. "Goblin work," he said. "Not something your family would be able to afford."

"I have rich friends," she said. "As you know." She could feel her jaw getting tighter and tighter as he looked at her, and the knife.

"And do those rich friends always bathe their gifts in basilisk venom?" he asked.

The trap closed and she looked, instinctively, toward the door as if she could still run, as if there were any place to run. "I don't know what you mean," she said, the words coming out with a stammer that made the lie all too apparent.

 _I can take over,_ Tom said. He pushed his way to the front of her mind. _These insubordinate fools need to learn their place._

"No!" she said out loud as she shoved him back down and away. The last thing she needed right now was Tom Riddle in control trying to murder a professor and his friend. She only realized her error when she looked up and both of them were smiling at her with the delighted grins of Slytherins who'd caught one of their fellows in a weak spot. She'd seen that look on Pansy's face, and Blaise's, and most certainly on her roommates'.

Severus Snape was unrolling his sleeve and making quite the idle show of looking at the Dark Mark. She could feel it writhing at Tom's presence. Regulus Black did the same.

"Now," Severus Snape said. "Let's have a moment of honesty, Miss Weasley. How deeply entwined with the Dark Lord are you and what, exactly, does Lord Voldemort want with a teenage girl?"


	51. Chapter 51 - Confrontation

Ginny looked from one man to the other and felt a grumble deep in her mind about how this was unfair. She wished she could blame that thought on Tom but she knew it was all hers. This was just _unfair_. She came from nothing. She'd fought her way into Slytherin despite her poverty, she'd cultivated Narcissa Malfoy. She had a boyfriend who'd marry her as soon as they were of age and she and Tom would be elevated to the highest levels of society and she'd done all of that starting from _nothing_ and all she had to do to make it work out was get rid of Voldemort. And now, with horcruxes found and destroyed, these men had cornered her.

"You're the ones in league with him," she said. Better, always, to go on the offensive. "You're the ones with Marks on your arms. Not me."

Regulus Black cocked his brows up and looked at Snape. Snape shrugged. "She is in our House," he said. "You surely didn't expect her to just roll over."

"I admit I expected a slightly more nuanced attack," Regulus said. "I'm a bit disappointed."

"She does come from a family of Gryffindors," Snape said. "Some things you can't shake off in just a few years."

"I suppose not," Regulus admitted.

As they kept their banter going Ginny got angrier and angrier. It was the kind of out-of-control fury that led people to throw things and she had to bite down on her tongue to keep from screaming at them. How dare they suggest she was still just like her family with their heedless nobility that didn't plan and didn't research and just fought whatever pretty lights got flashed in their eyes. She wasn't like that. Percy wasn't like that.

 _Calm down,_ Tom said. _You'll prove their point._

As he talked, the snake on Regulus Black's arm opened one eye and looked at her and she fell back a step.

"Interesting," Regulus said.

"Not as interesting as the ring on Dumbledore's finger," Ginny snapped.

 _Probably just as interesting,_ Tom said. _Do you think I whisper to him, too?_

The snake lifted its head.

 _Would you shut up and go away?_ Ginny demanded but it was too late. Only a fool would have missed that their Marks sometimes responded to her. Draco noticed, but he'd never associated it with her. His Mark was still too new. His experience with what made it twitch and writhe almost nonexistent. The two men in front of her, however, knew that the Marks were keyed to the Dark Lord.

And, as they hadn't failed to see, her.

Well, Tom, but they didn't know that.

" _Headmaster_ Dumbledore," Snape said, with emphasis on the man's title, "is not your concern."

"He is if he has a horcrux on his hand," she said. She knew it was a challenge. She knew it admitted things. She just didn't know what to do other than forge ahead with as much bravado as she could muster. There was no escape. "He's in league with Lord Vol -."

"Don't say it," Regulus said. The sudden harshness contrasted with his earlier mockery. "Let's not push our luck any further."

"You think the Headmaster of this school is in league with the Dark Lord?" Snape asked. He sounded at first incredulous and then disbelieving. "You think _Dumbledore_ would -." He turned away from her as though her idiocy was too much to be borne and Ginny felt something like hope creep up along her spine. "I can assure you," Snape said after a moment, "he is not." His utter contempt for her, for that idea, even for Voldemort leeched out through his tone.

"Then why does he have that ring on?" Ginny demanded.

"Because he is a fool," Snape said. He sounded tired now. "Because he was greedy."

"If I might interject." Regulus was back to playing the upper-class dandy. The disaffected tone made her more nervous than his brief descent into obvious caution had. "How, Miss Weasley, do you know what it is?"

"I read a lot," she tried.

 _Especially diaries._

The snake on Regulus Black's arm moved, and he smiled. "I think not," he said. "They aren't the sort of thing you find in _Witch Weekly_ or _The Daily Prophet._ "

"Not even in the Restricted Section," Snape said.

 _Wrong_. _Where does he think I read about them?_

Ginny's head pounded and she sank down onto the hard, wooden seat of one of the desks, heedless of the rule of courtesy that demanded she stand for this sort of interrogation. In a normal post-class scolding, Professor Snape would have berated her without mercy for daring to sit without invitation. That he merely watched her made her sag even lower. Two Death Eaters hovering over her and a horcrux twisting in her head. It was too much. She didn't even realize she had started to cry until a hot tear fell onto her hand, then another, then a third.

Snape took a step back. He'd made his share of students cry in his days, but this made him uncomfortable. It was Regulus Black who squatted down and pulled a handkerchief from some inner robe pocket. "The question," he said softly, "is whose side are you on?"

The tears came faster at that and her nose began to run, and she took the linen square and mopped at her face.

"Tell me how it started," he said. "Maybe I can help."

She lifted her face and looked at him. "I was young and stupid once too," he said. "You aren't Marked yet, child. Let us help you."

She wanted to laugh. They thought she was flirting with the idea of joining the Death Eaters. They thought she wanted to be like them, to be like Draco's aunt. _How dare he?_ Tom's thoughts were filled with righteous anger. _We are not followers. We don't join little groups._

"Ginevra?" Regulus Black asked.

She took a deep breath. "You're wrong," she said. "I'm not interested in being a… a Death Eater."

"That's good," he said. "The benefits are a bit dodgy."

"I own all of you," Tom said. The snake on Regulus Black's arm seemed to leap with joy at hearing his master's voice and Regulus himself stopped moving.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"Oh, great," Ginny said. "Now you've gone and done it."

Within her head Tom just shrugged.

. . . . . . . . . .

 **A/N – Thank you to** **moonlightmasquerade for beta reading. She is wonderful.**


	52. Chapter 52- Allies

She had to explain after that. Professor Snape stood over her for the whole of her stammering confession, arms crossed, his body shadowing her face from the classroom lights. Regulus Black pulled up a chair and played the role of the more sympathetic listener but she didn't have any doubt he'd murder her in a heartbeat if he thought it served his cause. Only Tom's insistence he was sure they hated the monster Voldemort kept her going. She could tell he had an agenda but, of course, he always did.

"So, let me get this straight," Snape said when her story trickled to a halt and she wiped at her eyes again with Regulus Black's handkerchief. "The day I found you passed out in your room was because Tom Riddle had taken possession of you."

She shouldn't have been surprised he remembered that.

"Not exactly," Tom said with a contemptuous drawl. "I'm in possession of her now and we're fine. We've been sharing this body for years. She doesn't have the strength for me to take corporeal form without draining her."

Snape and Black glanced at one another.

"But you _could_ take corporeal form," Black said slowly. "If you wanted to."

"Not without killing her," Tom said. "Do I have to use smaller words?"

"The Lord we know would not hesitate," Snape said rather dryly. "Please forgive us for being a little slow to understand."

Ginny rolled her eyes internally at their stupidity. Tom wasn't going to kill her. He practically was her. His internal contempt mirrored her own. Fools, all of them. Even his best followers were barely able to keep up with the idea he was a different person than the one they'd let brand them.

Well, sort of. The response of the Marks showed he wasn't _wholly_ different.

"I would vastly prefer not to kill Ginevra," he said. "We have not had any issues sharing the body."

 _Except my monthly._

 _I am still working on refinements to crucio to allow for the greater resilience of women._

Snape and Black were trying not to look to doubtful but time would demonstrate they were quite serious in their intention of sharing the body. _Unless you get snippy,_ she said. _Then back into the diary you go._

She could tell she was a little punch drunk with the relief that neither of the men cornering them intended to turn her over to Dumbledore – or, worse, Voldemort. At least not right away. Tom didn't grace her empty threat with a response. He just set the handkerchief down and leaned back in the chair. She let him take over. She was too drained after this confrontation. He could handle it.

He spread his legs and turned the little classroom seat into a throne. He was good at that. She sat back and watched the way he straightened up, leaned back, and cocked his mouth into a smile that invited the men interrogating him to feel honored they'd been admitted to his presence. It was a dozen tiny shifts of weight and bearing and he turned their body from that of a girl overwhelmed by too much into that of a king.

She'd felt him do it so many times before she'd almost lost her interest in the way a certain tilt to the shoulders both intimidated and enchanted people. Tom made people want to please him. He made them yearn for the privilege of being a follower. And it worked. It worked even on these two grown men who'd seen their boyhood idol turn into a monster.

"So," Regulus Black said very slowly, "You are a horcrux."

Tom shrugged. It dismissed the darkest of magic as a trivial problem. "I am the least contaminated version of Tom Riddle that exists," he said. "What you're following is… not worth speaking of."

"Except that he's quite powerful," Snape said wryly. "Hardly inconsequential."

Tom smiled. "Then, Severus, we will have to be moreso, won't we?"

Ginny flinched at the given name. You didn't call any adult by their name, much less a teacher. Professor Snape, however, merely nodded and moved on to the next eminently practical point. "How many horcruxes are there?"

"My guess is seven," Tom said.

"The word guess isn't very reassuring," Regulus said.

"I've been locked in a diary since I was sixteen," Tom said. "Some things I have had to extrapolate based on the plans I had at the time."

"We've destroyed Slytherin's locket," Ginny cut in. "And the Hufflepuff cup."

"And the diadem," Tom said. "I can handle this, Ginevra."

She huffed out loud and Regulus Black's mouth curled up into an involuntary smile. Tom huffed internally at that. _Oh, give him a break. It's probably not very often he sees his Lord arguing with a student,_ Ginny said.

 _We are both his Lord._

 _Lady._

 _Lord._

 _I am not going to argue with you about this. Lord._

Severus Snape let out a small cough and Ginny let Tom get back to the business of intimidating the pair who'd cornered her. "How can you be sure you have destroyed each horcrux?" he asked.

"Destroy the ring on Dumbledore's hand and you'll know," Tom said. He tipped his head toward the knife the pair of them had taken earlier. "Basilisk venom, as you noted. Goblin forged. It'll do the job."

"I have a feeling that will kill the man wearing it," Snape said.

"Not my concern," Tom said.

"Seven," Regulus Black said. "If the ring is one, that will leave three, including, if you'll forgive my pointing out the obvious, you."

"The snake," Snape said. They all stared at him and he shrugged. "He keeps a snake by his side all the time. It doesn't seem bothered by the cold floors, they seem to communicate."

"I can talk to snakes," Tom pointed out.

"And are they good conversationalists?" Snape asked.

"Not really," Tom admitted. Ginny huffed again internally. That they could share a brain and body and soul but she didn't get the magical ability to talk to snakes was unfair. _They really are boring,_ he reassured her _._

 _Even the basilisk?_

Tom didn't answer that.

"Well." Regulus stood up. "Sev, you'll take care of the ring, yes?"

"Obviously."

"So, I have a snake to kill."

"You'll need the dagger," Ginny said.

Regulus Black patted her on the cheek. "I think there's sure to be something dipped in basilisk at home," he said. "My mother was a bit of a collector." He nodded his head at Severus Snape and left.

Snape looked at her and a last drop of water slid off her wet hair and slunk down her back. "Don't you have homework you should be doing, Miss Weasley?" he asked.

She scooped up her bag and disappeared before he could want to talk more.


	53. Chapter 53- Snogging

Ginny rushed headlong through the corridors of Hogwarts. She didn't want to think. She didn't want to feel. That meeting had exhausted what reserves she had left. She'd expected to die. She'd expected them to turn on Tom, Tom who was the only person who really understood, and when they hadn't, when they'd offered to help, she hadn't known what to feel. She'd left the room hollowed out and shaking.

 _Of course they will do what we want_ , Tom said. _They're mine. Ours._

She'd had every reason to suspect they were Lord Voldemort's, a point she didn't feel like harping on now that Tom seemed to be right. He liked being right and he gloated and she was too done with everything to put up with him right now.

He had the sense to stay quiet as she hurried along and pushed her away into the Slytherin common room. It was as beloved as ever. The view of the water of the lake just as magical. The inhabitants just as much her friends – or at least her allies. Blaise lounged, on leg propped over the arm of a green leather chair. Theo was bent with his head down over an essay while Pansy braided Luna's hair.

That made Ginny stop and blink a few times. "Are we doing one another's hair now?" she asked. She knew she sounded snippy but she couldn't help herself.

Theo looked up from his homework. "Something crawl up your ass and die, Red?" he asked.

Tom tried to take over her mouth and she could feel the curse brewing in his mind. _No_ , she said.

A brief surge of rage quieted when she grabbed Draco's arm. "Let's go visit the owls," she said. He couldn't put his books away fast enough at that. He knew she didn't write home – hell, she sometimes thought every student in the whole castle knew what her family thought of her – and that meant she wanted to go up to the owlery for another reason.

For privacy.

He didn't ask whether she was okay until they'd climbed half the stairs, up out of the dungeon, up past the classrooms. She pressed her lips together. "Are you?" she asked.

She knew he wasn't. Knew he had burdens placed on him by Voldemort. Knew he was afraid. _He's going to have to solve this on his own_ , Tom said. _We have other tasks._

 _The way you're a heartless dick sometimes still surprises me_ , Ginny muttered back.

"I'll be fine," Draco said. "Everything will be fine."

"Yeah," she said. "It will." She wished she knew whether she was lying.

She pushed open the door to the cold aviary filled with perching school owls. Openings in the castle walls let them come and go. The room was cleaned frequently but she could see fragments of bone and fur sticking out of pellets that had been stepped on or missed the last time the elves had been up here. A small corner had been set up by some generation of students long gone. An old red armchair sat in a corner, spelled against owls, and a brazier she lit with magic huddled on the floor next to it. The air began to slowly warm as the fire pushed the chill away.

"Not that I'm complaining," Draco said. He sat down on the chair and pulled her onto his lap. "But what brought this on?"

"Lousy day," she said. "Meeting with Snape."

"Let me make it better?"

She twined her fingers in his fine hair and almost attacked his mouth with her own. She wanted to forget, she wanted the drug of touch and lust and being alive to drown out the fear that had almost choked her earlier, the fear that threatened to drown her whenever she thought about the utter idiocy of setting herself against Lord Voldemort. Draco was more than happy to comply, and when she and Tom shifted and he found himself kissing the cooler, older passenger of their body, he sucked in his breath and grew harder under Tom's hands.

That, at least, wouldn't be a problem in their future. If they ever got to the future.

 _We will_ , Tom assured her.

Ginny wasn't so sure. Draco had been growing paler by the day. They had multiple horcruxes to find, and each one was a guess. Tom's older self was insane, and she really didn't like snakes.

 _Snakes are very nice_.

 _Just shut up and pay attention to what you're doing._

Whatever else his many flaws were, Tom enjoyed Draco. She wouldn't go so far as to say he liked him. She wasn't sure Tom liked anyone.

 _I like you_.

 _If you aren't interested in snogging, I can take over._

He shut up again and she returned to her thoughts as Tom ground their body against Draco's trousers, eliciting a groan. She wasn't sure Tom liked anyone except her, but he certainly didn't object to Draco. He had their hands curled to dig into the back of Draco's neck, and was grazing their teeth along the edge of Draco's jaw before he returned his attention to his mouth. To be kissed by Tom was to be conquered. Ginny idly wondered what it might be like to be on the other end of that demanding kiss but decided it probably wouldn't be to her taste. She didn't want to be subdued or melt pliantly into any man's arms. She much preferred this, where the man in question was pressing up against her with desperate eagerness.

And she really didn't want to think anymore.

She shoved Tom back out of control and bit Draco's lip hard enough his hands spasmed where he held her. "God, Ginny," he got out. "You two are both wild today."

She knew. She didn't have any doubt he liked it though. Boys were so transparent, poor things. She'd never want to be that obvious about anything. It was nice for the ego, though, and kissing him until she could barely breathe finally turned her mind off and she could exist in just the present of Draco's mouth and Draco's hands.

She wasn't sure if this was love. It wasn't a topic Tom could help with. Whatever it was, it would do.

. . . . . . . .

 **A/N – A storyteller is nothing without an audience. Thank you for being mine.**


	54. Chapter 54 - The Fourth Horcrux

Ginny knew something was wrong when she saw Professor McGonagall's face at dinner. She didn't really like the Transfiguration professor. The woman favored her Gryffindors at every turn and was a brutal grader. She was always in control, though. In five years at Hogwarts, Ginny had never seen McGonagall look flustered or distraught or despairing.

She looked all of those things now.

Her nose was red and her eyes were swollen. Her voice didn't tremble, however, and she rose to her feet and cleared her throat for attention. She didn't permit other people to speak while she was talking and not a single student had any illusions about that. The entire dining hall fell silent and waited.

"I regret to inform you," she said, "that Headmaster Dumbledore is no longer with us."

Ginny glanced at Draco. He'd gone utterly white.

"What does she mean, 'no longer with us'?" a first year asked.

McGonagall glanced at the Slytherin table. The censorious look on her face would have silenced most Ministry officials. The child who'd spoken slouched down and tried to hide behind her friends. "He requested Professor Snape attempt to help him remove a cursed ring and the strain of the process has -." She hesitated, took a deep breath, and continued. "The strain of the process caused his heart to stop. Madam Pomfrey has not been -."

"No!"

That was Harry Potter. The yell came from the Gryffindor table and when Ginny looked over she, along with every other student at Hogwarts, saw him stand up and point at Snape. "Murderer," Potter said. A gasp rose up from the room and he said it again. This time his voice was quieter but the rage was no less. "Murderer."

"I suggest you sit down, Mr. Potter," Snape said with withering contempt. "You are overwrought."

"Professor Snape is not to blame," Minerva McGonagall said. When it looked as though Potter planned to go on, she added, "You may see me in my office after dinner, Mr. Potter." It was clearly an order and not an invitation and Harry slunk back down into his seat. His head pressed together with Hermione and Ron's and the three of them whispered among themselves. McGonagall sat down, whatever she planned to tell them about Madam Pomfrey's failed medical help left unsaid. Conversations began to race around the room.

Ginny picked up a fork, then put it down. She picked up her glass of juice and swallowed some of it. Pumpkin. She understood why adults turned to alcohol. She'd like to numb her feelings right now too.

Draco said in a small voice, "How can he be dead?"

 _Because our Snape killed him?_ Tom said. He sounded smug and somewhat annoyed by the growing histrionics of the student body. _I hope he managed to destroy the horcrux._

 _We'll ask later,_ Ginny said. Right now, she was more concerned about Draco, who had gone a dreadful shade of green. "Are you okay?" she asked though it was obvious he wasn't.

He stood. "I think I should go lie down," he said.

She didn't feel exactly well herself so she tossed her napkin down. "I'll walk you down," she said.

They were barely out the door when it banged open again behind them. Ginny wished she was surprised to see Harry Potter and his little followers, but she wasn't. He bore down on Draco, ignoring her altogether. Hermione flashed her a somewhat embarrassed smile, and Ron pointedly turned away. Between the two of them, she knew this was about to be ugly.

Harry pushed Draco into the wall. "Happy now?" he asked.

Draco shook him off. "What are you on about, Potter?" he asked. He did his best to put a sneer into his words but it came out a little desperate. "You all sniffing glue at the Gryffindor table again?"

"Accusing Professor Snape of murder?" Ginny asked with as much contempt as she could put in her voice. "Not exactly the done thing."

Harry turned on her. "This is what you wanted," he said. She could tell he was about to collapse. Only fury and a sense of betrayal kept him upright. "All you snakes, ready to kiss Lord Voldemort's hem."

"He put on a cursed ring," Ginny said. "How is that our fault?"

 _Horcruxes can be very compelling._

She ignored that.

"You all wanted him dead," Harry said. She could tell he wanted to lash out. Wasn't that just like all his house? Forget logic and the tedium of strategy. Just find someone you could beat up and that would make everything better. He reached out to shove her the way he'd shoved Draco and she grabbed his wrist and held on. He could have shaken her off. She knew he was physically stronger than she was, but the door from the dining hall opened again and this time it was Blaise and Greg who came out. The way they focused their eyes on the trip, she knew they'd followed them. They expected a fight. Greg probably wanted it. Harry froze when he saw them, and she tightened her grip on his wrist. "No one wanted Dumbledore dead," she said.

"Voldemort," Harry said.

"Yeah?" she asked. "Well, Draco isn't Voldemort and neither am I."

 _Ginny_ , Tom said. She ignored him because she was so focused on Harry.

"As good as," he said. "All of you."

She, let him go, pulled her hand back, and slapped him as hard as she could. "How dare you?" she asked in a hiss. He knew she'd been hunting horcruxes. She'd told him. Told Hermione. Tried to solicit their help. And he had the nerve to hurl that at her. She wanted to curse him until he bled. Ron took a step toward her, and Hermione put a hand on his arm. Greg balled his hands into fists and Blaise pulled out his wand and pointed it at Ron.

The door opened again and this time it was Severus Snape. "Do you students require assistance?" he asked.

They all moved away from one another.

"No, sir," Blaise said, sliding his wand back into his robe pocket. "We were just leaving."

Ginny looked at Snape. He made the smallest of nods. The deed had been done. One less horcrux in the world. Knowing that helped leech some of her anger away. Harry Potter could go hang himself. One more was out, and Regulus Black would take care of the snake, and that would make five. She took Draco's hand and pulled him toward the dungeon. He was shaking and his palm was damp against hers. She was afraid he'd pass out before they made it all the way home. "I can't believe he's dead," he said in a whisper.

"It will be fine," she said but he shook his head.

"You don't understand," he said.

 _Forget whatever is bothering him_ , Tom said. _We have a problem._

Ginny really didn't want to deal with this right now but since he was in her head and her soul, it was hard to make Tom shut up if he really didn't want to. _What is it?_

 _Harry Potter is a horcrux._

She stopped walking, jerking her hand out of Draco's. _What?_

 _When you grabbed him, I knew. It's there, inside him. I could feel it._

 _Shite._


	55. Chapter 55 - The Visitor

_We can't just kill Harry Potter_.

Ginny considered picking up a book and hurling it at the mirror in her room. She was frustrated enough she'd like the release of a little casual violence, and maybe that would drive her point home. But probably not. She'd been arguing with Tom long enough her head hurt.

 _I don't see why not._

She took a deep breath. _Well, for one thing, people who murder their schoolmates very rarely get chosen as Minister for Magic._

 _Actually, in 1453 there was –_

 _Don't._ She cut him off. Sometimes his interest in history was useful. Sometimes it was a massive bore.

 _We could trick someone else into killing him._

 _Has anyone ever told you that you are a little over-focused on murder?_

 _We could lure him to the Chamber of Secrets. What's the point of having a basilisk if you don't use it?_

 _We cannot murder him_.

She decided to ignore the muttered _It's not like I've never murdered a classmate before_. The petulance was enough to let her know he was going to drop it, at least for now. First the snake. Then Potter. She rubbed at her head, then grabbed her hair with both hands and yanked on it in her frustration. This was a problem she had no idea how to solve.

"Crazy Ginevra," said one of her roommates as she pushed the door to their shared space open. So much for privacy. The insult was almost pro-forma. They'd stopped actively hassling her a long time ago but sometimes people hated you this week because they'd hated you last week and sometimes they spewed their venom because they'd forgotten how to do anything else.

"Yeah," Ginny said. She folded her feet under her on her bed and looked at the other girl, really looked at her for the first time in years. She'd been crying. Dumbledore's death probably. Her skin looked blotchy and the hair she'd fixed into a perfect waterfall of layers that morning was showing its split ends. "Did you ever consider that if I were crazy it would be a really bad idea to constantly pick on me?"

"What?" the girl asked.

Ginny sighed and stood up. "Nothing," she said. "You're just not very smart is all."

"Someday you're going to wish you were nicer to us," the girl said.

"Yeah?" Ginny asked. Maybe that was true. Maybe despite all the allies she had in the House, maybe despite the patronage of the Malfoys, maybe despite it all someday she'd regret not having cultivated the girls in her year. She was too tired to really care right now. Maybe she'd go flying. That cleared her head. She could fly and let the cold air rip away the cobwebs and the pain and maybe then she'd know what to do. Or she could find Draco. Something was bothering him too, and she should be a good girlfriend and go find out what it was and say all the right things to make it seem less important. Maybe she could write Percy. He was buried deep in all the secrets of the Ministry and he might be able to find something. How could you strip a horcrux from a person without killing him? A tricky question to ask at work but if anyone could manage to make it sound like he was filling out a form in triplicate and it was really such a hassle but he had to find out this obscure bit of lore just to keep the other department from sending the paperwork back it was her brother. Hell, maybe she could even ask one of the twins. Or have Granger ask them.

Granger. That was a good resource. If anyone could weasel her way into the back stacks of the library and ferret out even dark knowledge even Tom didn't know it was her.

Ginny pushed herself up and tried to find the energy to make the trek up to Gryffindor Tower, to push her way past their exhausting prejudice, to sit down a tell a woman her best friend was housing a bit of a monster in his soul. She pulled the diary out of her drawer, along with one of her knives, and dropped both into her bag. The weight of the strap dragged at her shoulder. She'd made it out of the Slytherin dorms and halfway to the stairs before Tom interrupted the trudging.

 _Ginny_.

 _Not now._

 _No, now,_ Tom said. She'd never heard him be quite so urgent. Panic was just not a word she associated with him.

She stopped walking. _What_?

 _He's here,_ Tom said. It took her a moment to understand what he meant, probably because it was the last thing she wanted it to be.

 _Voldemort_ , she said. Tom could feel him. The benefits of being a horcrux she supposed. Perhaps after that Christmas party he'd stayed alert, always reaching out to feel for the other pieces of himself. It didn't matter how he knew. He knew. Voldemort was here. But how?

 _Without Dumbledore_ , Tom began but then stopped and she sucked in her breath. They'd made a horrible, tactical error. They'd made this place vulnerable and while she couldn't, for the life of her, understand why a madman with a fixation on power would descend on a boarding school the moment he had the chance, it seemed that was exactly what he'd done. It suddenly became so much more important to get to Harry Potter. She hitched the bag up onto her shoulder and took off running. Quidditch had strengthened her legs. No one would have ever accused her of being in poor condition, but this school was nothing but stairs and she had to get from the lowest point to almost the highest, and it didn't take long before the halls were filled with terrified people going one way or another. Where they thought to take shelter, she didn't know. They all seemed to think someplace other than the one they'd started in would be best. What she thought was that they were in her way. She was taking stairs two at a time, her bag dragging on her, then she was standing outside the painting everyone in Hogwarts knew led to the Gryffindor dormitory.

"Let me in," she said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Fat Lady said. She squinted at Ginny. "Shouldn't you be somewhere else?"

Tom shoved her aside, pulled the knife out, and said in a low voice, "We've met before. Perhaps you recall a Tom Riddle? I do not have time for this, and if you do not open this door at once I will start by cutting off your fingers one at a time until you accommodate me. I can hold you in place with a thought, so don't even think about fleeing to another frame. Think instead about this: how much pain do you think you can still feel as a portrait?"

The Fat Lady swallowed so hard the canvas bulged and then the portrait hole swung open.


	56. Chapter 56 - The Fifth Horcrux

Most of Gryffindor tower was in such chaos the no one thought to stop Ginny and ask what she was doing there. A few students looked at her green tie curiously, but a Slytherin was less worrying than news that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in the castle. Being unimportant had its benefits.

"Where's Granger?" Ginny grabbed a passing student and the arm and shook her until the panic receded from her eyes. "I need to find Hermione Granger."

"Why?"

Tom took over and Ginny tried not to grind her teeth in aggravation as he said, "Because if we don't find her, it's quite possible every student in this castle will die."

 _You do realize threatening people with death doesn't always make them do what you want, don't you?_

 _Now is not the time, Ginevra._

Ginny wasn't sure whether she was relieved the girl pointed them toward a half-secluded study area behind a bookcase or annoyed Tom's tactics had worked. His smug gloating didn't help.

 _Now is not the time, Tommy,_ she muttered in the deepest recesses of her head.

 _Tommy?_ Even in crisis, he found the emotional energy to be outraged by that. She shrugged internally at him and if a soul hiding in your own could be said to grind his teeth, he ground his. She ignored him to stride over to the nook where Hermione Granger was, indeed, sitting. She was rapidly flipping through a tome so musty Ginny could smell it, even over the stale snacks and spilled ginger beer reek of every common room on Hogwarts. She had to have found that buried under a pile of books no one had opened in a hundred years.

"Granger," she said.

"I'm busy, Weasley," she said without looking up. She flipped past a spell for evisceration and stopped at what was little more than an advanced body bind. If she was looking for battle spells, she was focusing on the wrong ones. "I don't know if you care down there in your dungeon, but we have a crisis and I don't have time to –."

Ginny put her hand on the book. "Make time for this," she said.

Hermione Granger did not look happy to be interrupted. She pursed her lips into an almost spiteful grimace that wouldn't have seemed out of place on Hogwart's notoriously bitter librarian. Ginny could see what she'd look like at 50. It wasn't pretty. "What, then?" she asked.

Ginny took a deep breath and cast a silencing spell. Granger looked impressed and Ginny remembered a moment too late she wasn't supposed to be able to cast wandlessly. She was only a fifth year. It was just that she'd done that spell so often with Tom back in her room to get privacy it had become second nature. She hadn't remembered to disguise it. Well, there was a lot going on right now. She pushed her guilt over that bit of sloppiness away and plowed onward. "That one," she said, meaning Voldemort, and Granger nodded. "The horcruxes." Granger nodded again and looked impatient. It was best to just spit it out. "Potter's one."

Granger's face slid through disbelief, irritation, and then, as Ginny never giggled or smirked or did anything but look as worried as she felt, fear. "He can't be," she said, then, "How would you know?"

"I've gotten better at the feel of them," Ginny said. It was true enough. No need to explain why. "When we got into it and I touched him, I knew." He was, and he needed not to be so they could kill the man busy stalking through the lower levels of the school.

Assuming Regulus Black had taken care of the snake.

 _One thing at a time._

Granger stuck her head out of the bubble of their silence and snapped, "Dean, get Harry." It only took a few moments and the frazzled looking boy, supposed to be the savior of them all, was pushed at them. He ran a hand through hair he never seemed to brush.

Ginny pulled the old diary and her knife out of her bag.

"I don't think you're allowed to have that at Hogwarts," Granger said.

"Dumbledore knows," Ginny said. She paused as she considered his current state. "Knew." Harry scowled at that and she rolled her eyes. Was she supposed to pretend the man wasn't dead?

"She thinks you're a horcrux," Granger said.

Potter did not look convinced and that wasn't going to make this easy. Ginny tried to figure out how to explain how to feel the extra presence in your head and, more importantly, how to push it out. "Think of it as an itch," she said. _Or a headache,_ Tom suggested. "Or a headache."

Granger and Potter exchanged glances. Somehow the mention of headaches had hit home and they believed her a little more now. "This is a horcrux of sorts," she said and held out the diary. "I think, maybe, the bit of That One that's in you will slide into it because it's one of his older ones. And then we just destroy it, and -."

"And two more down," Granger said. "That's remarkably clever, Ginny."

"I have my moments," she said.

 _I don't think this will work exactly how you think,_ Tom said.

 _You're just mad it wasn't your idea._

Harry made a face. He squinched his nose up and ground his jaw and seemed to clench his whole body. "Are you trying to shit him out?" Ginny asked. His glare was less than warm at that, but his hands tightened on the book until his knuckles were white and when Tom twitched she knew it had worked.

 _You can tell?_

 _It's like having someone else come into your house,_ he said. _Someone who smells._

 _It's you._

 _Not really. A very unpleasant, ravening copy of copy,_ he said. _There's been a bit of degradation._

 _But he's there?_

When Tom nodded, she took the book back from Potter. It felt magical in her hands. It wanted to be opened. It wanted her to write in it. She remembered the way she'd been so eager to start a diary when she'd first found it. She hadn't stopped to ask why she had suddenly been so keen to do something that had never interested her before. The book had been just a book for years and now that it was a horcrux again she could tell. She could understand why she'd been so possessed.

Though it did feel a bit slimier than she remembered.

"How do you feel," she asked Potter.

He frowned a bit, and bit at the side of his mouth as he considered. "Like pressure behind my eyes I hadn't even noticed is gone," he said at last. "Better."

"So, it worked," Granger said.

"Well," Ginny said. "One way to find out."

 _What if this goes wrong?_ Tom asked. A hint of nerves made her hesitate.

 _You want me to stop?_ she asked him.

 _It'll be fine,_ he said. _I'm not in it. I think. Just… you will be stuck with me once that's gone._

 _Nothing new about that._ She set the book on the table and raised her dagger. "Here goes nothing."

She plunged the dagger down into the black leather cover.


	57. Chapter 57 - Allies

A hiss of black smoke leeched out of the book, and oil too, and Ginny took a step back. Even with all the horcruxes she'd destroyed, this one seemed especially bad. She could see Granger glance uneasily back at the rest of the common room, but her study nook was sufficiently private no one seemed to notice anything was amiss. The silencing charm had to help but maybe Gryffindors were just used to smoke emerging from magical experiments gone wrong.

Given they had to live with Fred and George, that seemed more than likely.

"Look at the would-be saviors," the horcrux hissed. "Look at the heroes."

Ginny didn't have time to see how Potter and Granger reacted to the taunting because Tom had begun to slip out of her soul. She could feel him being pulled away by tidal forces of magic he'd set in motion fifty years earlier and she dug her heels in and grabbed onto him. "No," she said out loud as she refused to let him back out and into the diary. He scrambled back into the nooks and crannies where he'd hidden during their first encounter with his older self at Narcissa's Christmas party. Even there the death of the diary pulled at him. It wanted to consume him and all she could think was _No._

"You'll never be free of me," the horcrux whispered. "You can't even remember what it's like to not have me there. I am a part of you, the best part, the only part that matters."

"No," Harry Potter said. His voice was a lot less shaky than she felt. "You're wrong." He pulled the dagger out of her hand and rammed it down into the diary again and again and again. "You're an infection, you bastard, and that's all."

"That's what you think," hissed the horcrux. "But what are you, really? Just a child no one trusts."

"They trust me," Harry said, but now his voice was a little weaker and he took a step away from the book. "They do."

The horcrux laughed. "They don't tell any of you anything," it said. Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at the book as if that would help but, at last, the basilisk venom in the blade of the knife did its work. The diary shuddered and settled down into being nothing but some damaged pages between a leather cover. Tom was still safely tucked away. Harry Potter wasn't a horcrux.

Ginny wanted a shower. By the way Potter was rubbing at his arms, he felt the same way. Hermione Granger was tried to make a joke as they all stood, unsure what to do next in the aftermath.

"You really shouldn't treat a book that way, Harry," she said.

They all looked at her. "Well," she said, sounding defensive now, "in general, you shouldn't."

Ginny poked at the diary. A puddle of something oily and dark surrounded it and though the tidy part of her that had been raised by Molly Weasley thought she should at least toss it into a bin she didn't want to get any of the ooze on her fingers. Maybe it would be better off left for the elves to handle with their magic. "There's only one left," she said. Assuming they'd been right about the idea there would be seven of them. She didn't want to think about having to track down more.

 _Two. You're forgetting me._

 _Shut up._

"One horcrux?" Granger asked. She managed to look a little put out by that. Her jaw thrust out and she folded her arms and Ginny wanted to shake her. If she'd wanted in on the destruction of the things, she should have tried harder before now. "You've been busy," she said.

"Snape helped," Ginny said.

"Snape?" Harry's mouth dropped open. It was unattractive.

 _Thank god you like blonds too. If you still had a crush on this one, I might have had to go back into the diary just to escape._

 _I think I told you to shut up._

They were both more than a little wobbly after his near destruction. It made him arch. It made her snippy. Hermione Granger narrowed her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Ginny said. It would figure that Granger would catch her talking to Tom and, even worse, be suspicious. Everyone else just assumed she was drifting off into her own thoughts. "And, yes, Snape." Best to distract them both. They hated Snape so that would do it.

"But he's -."

"On your side," Ginny said. She let a mean little smile curl up the corners of her mouth. "Try to keep up."

Even better than Snape as a distraction was her brother. She'd been lucky that Ron hadn't been around before but that luck didn't hold. He came crashing around the corner and stopped abruptly when he saw her. "Ginevra," he said coldly. "Shouldn't you be in the dungeons with the rest of the snakes?"

"Oh, give it a rest, Ronald," Granger said. Ginny tried not to gape. "She came up to help us. Harry had… Harry had a problem and she took care of it and we're going now."

"Lord -," Ron began.

"Yes," Granger said. She turned her back on the destroyed horcrux and gave both Ron and Harry a shove toward the portrait hole. "Let's go."

Ginny must have hesitated a moment too long. She needed to go, of course, but Hermione Granger hadn't ever really had to have a conversation with Voldemort. She didn't know how terrifying he really was. Sometimes fear was wisdom.

Also, of course, she wasn't sure she'd be welcome with the Gryffindors. Even for a short walk down from the tower.

"Are you coming?" Granger asked.

"She's too much of a coward to face what's down there," Ron said.

Ginny stiffened, but before she could say anything, Hermione turned on Ron. "You don't know as much as you think you do," she said. "Just because someone's in another house doesn't mean you have to go around being," she paused and her anger seemed to drain out of her. "Being like that," she settled on.

 _Doesn't want to offend the boy she's got a crush on_ , Tom said.

"Let's go," Harry said. He held his arm out and Ginny realized with something akin to shock it was a courteous gesture meant for her. Maybe she'd read him wrong all these years.

 _Unlikely._

They headed out the portrait hole and down to where Lord Voldemort lurked.


	58. Chapter 58 - The Sixth Horcrux

Voldemort was as terrifying as Ginny remembered. He was stalking back and forth in the Great Hall, his robes swirling around his ankles, wand in his hand. She looked for Regulus among the gathered Death Eaters, but he was absent. So was Nagini. She nudged Granger and whispered, "The last horcrux is his snake."

"He's always got that thing with him," Potter said. She could see him scanning the room, looking for it.

"How?" Ron asked.

He tapped his head. "Visions," he said. "From the thing."

Ginny took a brief moment to be fervently grateful that hauling around her own horcrux hadn't left her with any insight into the current Lord Voldemort's daily life. She knew what Tom thought of Draco's arse and that was enough. More than enough. She didn't need to know what his first self had eaten for breakfast on any given day or how he took his tea.

Speaking of Draco… where was he?

It looked like the whole school had converged on this room. Students were pressed up against walls, hands over their mouths, watching. Professors stood, facing Voldemort and his black robed followers, wands drawn. The professors she understood. They couldn't not appear. They couldn't allow a violent threat to the school to go unanswered. That students were here made less sense. A sensible person would have tried to get as far away from this storm as possible. If she had any choice, she'd be somewhere far, far away.

Draco had never been especially sensible. He'd come into the room along with the rest of their House. She could see Blaise and Theo and Pansy. She could see her roommates. None of them were looking at her. They scanned the Death Eaters, looking for shoes they recognized under the robes, or a mask they'd found in the back of closet one summer. They were looking for their parents.

She knew the moment Draco found his. His shoulders sagged and he clenched his fists and for a moment she wanted to let someone else handle this and hold his hand. She could tell him everything would be OK.

Of course, she had no faith at all that if she let Harry and his merry band take over, they'd get the job done. He didn't have a stellar track record for focusing on anything other than Quidditch in her opinion. Draco was much more reliable.

 _Could you try to think with your head and not your glands?_ Tom asked.

 _My head says get the students out of here,_ she muttered at him.

He licked at her thoughts with his own and a cold grin took shape in the back of her mind. _I knew I liked you_ , he said.

She decided to ignore that. She was halfway to Draco before he added, _And it gives you an excuse to save the boy._

She was definitely not going to respond to that. It wasn't as if he were wholly indifferent to Draco's charms.

"Theo," she said in a quiet voice when she reached the gathered Slytherins. "If I told you to get everyone out, could you?"

He looked at her for a long moment. She could hear the swish of Lord Voldemort's robes as he paced and the breathing of hundreds of people. Then he nodded. "Got a plan, Red?" he asked.

"A bad one," she said.

Theo looked up at Voldemort. "Well, it would have to be." He tugged on her hair and tried to summon a smile, then turned back to the crowd. A whisper in Pansy's ear, a glance at Ginny, and her suggestion to leave began to wind its way through the gathered Slytherins. Theo slipped over to a group of girls with blue scarves, looking for Luna, and some of the Ravenclaws began to fade away toward the exits as well.

"What's going on?" Draco asked.

She grabbed his hands, then leaned in to kiss him, but it was Tom who whispered in his ear, "Get out."

His head jerked up and he searched out his parents. She wasn't sure what signal he managed to pass his mother. It didn't seem like much more than a quick glance across a crowded room, but Narcissa touched the man at her side lightly on the elbow and a mask that must have hid Lucius turned its expressionless eyes on her. She didn't look away and, after a moment, he let Narcissa lead him first to the side of the gathered Death Eaters, as though she wanted to ask him something, then, step by step, toward the door. They weren't quite out, but they could escape quickly. It would have to do.

"What are you doing?" Draco whispered. "Gin, he's… he's mad, you know. You can't –."

"Someone has to," she said. She brushed her lips over his cheek and hoped it wasn't for the last time. "Wait for me," she said. "Somewhere safe. I'll find you when it's over."

"Cowards," she heard her brother saying as the Slytherins disappeared out and away. She bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could to keep from saying anything. "Rats deserting a sinking ship," he yelled off after them. " _Rats!"_

Smart rats, she thought. Rats who wanted to save their own lives. She felt a familiar flash of contempt for Gryffindor, a House who attracted people to stupid not to run into a fire, but, when her eyes landed on Harry, admitted to herself that wasn't all bad. Better him run into the flames than her.

"You seem lonely, today, Tom," he said,

It was surreal to hear Harry call that monster Tom. The Tom in her head didn't like it, but Voldemort liked it even less. He hissed, an actual hiss, and Ginny took a step back. Goosepimples erupted across her arms and every instinct she had told her to flee, to look down, to get away.

 _Rude,_ Tom said.

One of these days, assuming they had any more days after this, she was going to insist he teach her Parseltongue.

"I am surrounded by my most loyal," Voldemort said. He pulled his thin lips back in a smile that stretched across his face like a nightmare. "But I have come for you, Harry Potter."

 _That doesn't logically follow._

Ginny inhaled through her nose. Tom needed to stop. She could feel the way his earlier fear had given way to an almost manic bloodlust. He was barely restraining himself from pulling their wand and cursing the monster on the spot. This was his only real rival. This was the enemy. Nothing mattered as much as killing that body right now. There was only one thing in their way.

"I just have to ask," Harry said. "The snake? Namini or something? Fellini? Linguine? Where is she?"

Voldemort stopped his pacing and the hem of his robe swirled for a moment before settling around his ankles. Ginny had the irreverent thought that he must be using magic to get quite that dramatic a swish. "Nagini," he said, emphasizing the name, "will not be joining us today."

"Have a bad rat?" Harry asked. The mockery in his voice made Ginny suck in her breath. Even with Tom in her head, Voldemort terrified her. The sight of his red eyes made her skin crawl and she could feel herself sweating in fear. The Sorting Hat had been right to keep her out of Gryffindor. She would never have been able to be this brave. Never.

"One of my followers," Voldemort stopped. "I will find another snake. It is no matter."

Harry glanced at Ginny, then pointed his wand at the Dark Lord.

 _"_ _Expelliarmus_ _,"_ he said.


	59. Chapter 59 - The Battle

The wand wrenched itself free of Voldemort's hands and came careening through the air toward Harry. He snatched it from the air with the skill he'd developed catching the Snitch and turned it on its owner. Ginny closed her eyes and felt a fervent, almost prayer form in her mind. _Don't be noble and stupid,_ she whispered to herself. _Just do it._ It would save her so much trouble if he would just do it.

Harry hesitated and Voldemort laughed. He held a hand out and one of his robed followers pressed another wand into it. "I'll take mine back when we're done, boy," he said. "You are no fit wielder of the Elder Wand."

Tom almost gasped. _Get that wand_ , he said. The words were as urgent as any she'd heard from him and they goaded her into action. She ran the few steps to Harry and snatched Voldemort's wand from his grasp. It was an ugly thing, with knobs and growths along its length that reminded her of nothing so much as a diseased tree. _You can't lose with the Elder Wand,_ Tom said with satisfaction.

Since Harry had just lost it to her, that seemed obviously false but she had bigger things to worry about than Tom's fascination with shiny things. _We can't lose with your pet, either,_ she said. _Let's stick with the plan._

Tom used her mouth to call to it and the series of hisses got Voldemort's attention. "You," he said. He pointed a nobly, grey finger and her and peered at her through his red, slitted eyes. "The Malfoy woman's little protégé. You are more interesting than you have let on." He hooked his fingers through the air and tried to pull her across the floor with a dramatic, wordless accio charm.

Tom dug in his heels. No one was dragging him across the floor like old laundry, let alone some half-mad fragment of himself. Voldemort might have had more years on his side but the pair of them had sanity and working together they kept their feet planted on the stone floor of the hall.

That she could resist raised Voldemort's ire. A moment ago she'd been an oddity, the pureblood girl who spoke Parseltongue, or who seemed to. Now she had openly defied him. She knew Tom well enough to guess who much he liked that. Voldemort hissed at her. She'd have guessed it was a curse, and maybe a test wrapped around a question. Tom hissed back.

Well, great. So much for sneaky. So much for cunning.

She could feel Harry staring, Voldemort looked livid, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Narcissa and Lucius slip out the doorway. More than one Death Eater followed them. Tom vacillated between fury that his supporters were deserting and satisfaction that this other self was so bad at instilling loyalty he was leaving a whole battalion ready to be reminded what had drawn them to follow a charismatic Dark wizard in the first place.

 _Focus_ , she snapped at him. Two angry Tom Riddles was two too many. _You can't recruit them until we're done with him, and I can't talk to your monster for you._

It wouldn't take care of Voldemort. Rather like Tom, the bastard would be just fine with the monster. But his army, now, that was another matter. And there were a lot of them, more than she'd expected, really. No wonder he'd done such a good job of almost winning the first war. He had a lot of helpers.

But they had a weapon.

She had her back to the place the thing picked as its entrance point so she heard the shrieking first, then the sound of feet as everyone scrambled to get away.

"A basilisk," someone managed to say – or scream - and most people who hadn't started to run turned and began to flee toward any open door. She could see a handful of Death Eaters remained standing at Voldemort's side, wands out. Not a lot. Perhaps the fools thought their master had called the thing.

 _Their master did,_ Tom said.

"Just don't meet its eyes," she said in an undertone to Harry Potter. She was not going to get into it with Tom about this, and Ron had already taken off. Rats, indeed. Who was the rat now? She planned to make sure he remembered that he'd disappeared when the going got a little too rough for his liking for the rest of his life.

"Can you control that thing?" Harry asked. He was looking down at the stone floor.

"A little," she said.

She could hear Minerva McGonagall organizing teachers to go after the fleeing Death Eaters. She suspected some of them would vanish their robes and masks and become nothing more than concerned parents once they were out of Voldemort's sight, but not all of them. She could take out the ones stupid enough to think they were anything without their leader and, of course, the true believers wouldn't leave. _This is good,_ Tom said. _We can get rid of the ones we don't want all at once._

"My darling," she could hear Voldemort say. "How did you know I was in need of a new snake?"

 _His darling?_ Tom was outraged. _What does he mean HIS darling?_ He took over to hiss at the basilisk, and it swung its head to look at them. It let out a loud hiss of its own that she would have sworn sounded delighted. It liked her. Great.

"I think you overestimate the creature's loyalty to you," Ginny heart her own mouth say. That mouth hissed, and she didn't know what she said, but if a giant monster could radiate delight, the basilisk in front of her did. It swung its head around and reached its mouth for one of the black robed figures surrounded Voldemort.

Basilisks could open their jaws wider than she would have expected.

She wasn't sure whether the Death Eater died from looking into the basilisk's eyes or from being swallowed.

 _If he wasn't suffocated by the pressure going down, he might live several minutes,_ Tom said. He sounded utterly satisfied.

Some of the Death Eaters that hadn't fled before turned and ran at that sight, and the basilisk slithered after them, if a movement that fast could be called a slither. He managed to eat three more, and most of the rest fell, stunned or dead.

"Nice," Harry said at her side.

"Efficient," Tom said. He turned her head to glance at the Chosen One. "You plan to make a show of it or are you going to stand there until – "

A bolt of light came their way and Tom whipped the wand up and cast a _Protego_ so quickly she hadn't even had time to think the spell. _I am a prodigy,_ he said. _And I am not going to be taken down by my own trickery._

Voldemort cast a flurry of spells, and Tom flicked them back or held them off. His tendency to gloat faded away, as did his habit of narrating how clever he was. He became a marvel of power and needed nothing from her except her mouth to speak his spells, except her hand to point the wand, except her feet to carry his steadily towards his opponent, his self, his nemesis. "You became a monster," Tom said with her voice. "I think you might have always been a fool. You might have done better if you'd stopped to learn what you had in common with other people. If you'd valued your humanity."

Voldemort hurled spells at them. She could tell the first set weren't especially powerful. He wanted Harry Potter and she was just a thing in his way but as Tom advanced his magic became stronger and harder to resist. She felt a tinge of fear. He was older. He had more experience. He knew things they'd never dreamt of.

 _Don't worry,_ Tom said. _It doesn't take that much skill to cast the death curse._

And he did.

 _"Avada Kedavra,"_ she said, or he said, or they said. She wasn't sure anymore whose voice it was. She supposed it didn't matter. They held the Elder Wand. They cast the spell. Voldemort fell. In the end, he was dull and mortal and his body hit the ground with a thud.

 _And now there is one_ , Tom said.

Ginny only realized her parents were there when her mother rushed toward her from behind the teachers. "My girl," she said, nearly sobbing. Her squeeze was too tight. Her slobbering unwelcome.

Ginny forced a smile because that's what a normal daughter would have done. "I hope I'm not going to Azkaban for that," she said. She let out a sob and a hiccup to try to convey how overwhelmed she was by the whole thing. She must have really been a little overwrought because that fake sob turned into a real one and then the tears were coming and her shoulders were shaking.

Molly smoothed and smoothed her hair and it was all she could do not to twitch away. Honestly, how dare this woman touch her. What she needed was a handkerchief and maybe a cup of tea. "Of course not," she said. She sounded proud and smug and pleased and that tone grated against Ginny's ears. You'd think the woman thought she'd had something to do with it. Talk about taking parental pride a step too far.

 _A bit more than a step,_ Tom said.

She agreed.

She pulled away from Molly and looked around. Severus Snape had appeared from some dark crevice and was watching her. He made the tiniest incline of his head but she recognized the fealty for what it was. Good. Harry seemed a bit stunned. Well, he'd get used to not being the Chosen One with time.

She tucked this wand they'd won down into a pocket to figure out later. Now she wanted to get away from what was rapidly turning into chaos and find Draco. The adults had made this mess. They could sort it out from here without her.


	60. Chapter 60 - The Proposal

Ginny found Draco in one of the courtyards where they'd pretended to study once upon a time. He was alone. Wherever the rest of the students had gone to ground, it wasn't here. He was sitting against a stone wall, his knees drawn up and one hand holding a wand. The hand shook and she didn't blame him. Hard not to be terrified of that thing. She squatted down next to him. "He's dead," she said simply. No need to say who. No need to say a lot of Death Eaters had died, probably some of them the parents of their friends. "I saw your parents get out."

Draco let out a trembling breath and lowered the wand. They'd probably relive this in nightmares for years, but for now it was done. "You're sure?" he asked.

She nodded. It was all he needed to see. The thing, perhaps, he'd hoped for even as he believed it would never come to pass. He lowered his head down onto his knees to hide his face. Tears, probably. Shaking most certainly. She gave him a moment to collect himself. "He was going to kill me," he said softly. "Me and my parents and -."

"Well, now he's not," she said. She knew it wasn't that simple. Even saying he was dead wasn't quite right. They had a body but she'd be willing to bet that somewhere there was a thing, lower than the meanest ghost, and it would want to come back.

 _It won't_ , Tom said. _I'm here now._

If you could roll your eyes at your own head she would have. They'd have a chore ahead of them, constantly on the lookout for Voldemort trying to rise, never quite explaining how he could. _Maybe destroying the diary was enough_ , Tom suggested. That earned him a snort. Magic was never that easy. He was still here, ergo Voldemort still had a tie to the world of the living. They'd just moved the horcrux from his old book to…

To her.

Wasn't that lovely.

She wasn't going to think about that right now. She pulled herself next to Draco and leaned up against the rocks with him. A thousand years of students sitting here, rubbing their cares and their book-bags against this wall, had worn it smooth. It cradled her. "We're going to be fine," she said. She took his hand and looked down at his fingers. She could run her thumb over the callouses all Quidditch players had. His had begun to soften this year when he'd had things to do besides play. They all had. "Better than fine."

"Stay with me?" he asked.

"Forever," she said.

Tom stirred in the depths and she shoved him down with enough force the effort made her squeeze Draco's hand hard enough to wrest an, "Oof" from him. She was not making a horcrux. He could kiss that plan goodbye.

 _You won't need one if we have the Hallows,_ he whispered.

She ignored him. She ignored the smug feeling he radiated when he thought of the wand she'd taken, tucked against her side. She ignored his eagerness to go find more things, more magical objects, more prizes that would make them special, make them both things the world couldn't ignore. _We don't want them to ignore us, Ginevra_.

Right now the person she didn't want to be ignored by was Draco Malfoy, and based on the way he turned to her and pressed his hands into both sides of her face, he felt much the same way. He pressed his mouth to hers, uncertainly at first and then, when she didn't pull away, with more fervency. Maybe it was strange to sit in an empty courtyard and snog after murdering a tyrant. Maybe that was a sign of the way Tom had twisted and warped her mind so she didn't react like a normal person anymore. Ginny didn't care. She clung to Draco with the same desperation he used to hold onto her. She grabbed onto his hair to try to pull him closer. She wedged herself up into his lap.

If there was something wrong with her for being interested in physical contact like this right after a terrifying battle, that same thing was wrong with Draco. She could feel him pressing up into her, through pants and trousers and robes, and she wondered if they could steal away and find an old room where no one would bother them.

 _There's nothing wrong with you,_ Tom said. _This is how people –_

 _Oh, shut up._

What she wanted to do right now was kiss Draco Malfoy and she wasn't at all interested in analyzing why she did, or how normal that was. And she wasn't interested in sharing. Tom could go make a bed for himself somewhere quiet and out of the way and let her have this. Draco pressed his mouth against hers, thrust his tongue between her lips with an artlessness that made Tom sigh. She didn't care. She'd snog her boyfriend the way she wanted to.

When she had to pull herself back, gasping and flushed, in need of air, Draco leaned forward and kissed first her right cheek then her left one. "Marry me," he said. "Please."

She twitched. It wasn't as if that hadn't been the plan. She'd known his parents planned to pull her in as their little Weasley conquest for years. And Tom had been going about as if it were a done deal. It still felt weirdly thrilling to be asked. Her mouth began to move into a smile and she bit at her lip and, with the delay in her response, Draco got visibly nervous. Tom smirked a bit at that, always pleased to make people uncomfortable, to assert power.

"I mean, I know this isn't the most romantic," Draco stammered out. "I should have a ring… and we're much too young, you have to finish school. _I_ have to finish school. But -."

"Yes," she said before he could go on any longer. She pressed her forehead into his and took a deep breath. Her mother had gotten married this young. Maybe it was a bad idea, she was sure that very same mother would tell her it was, but it felt right. Draco was the son of wealth but he was also and always the boy who'd cut his own holiday short to stay with her over Christmas that first year. His parents were already a second family. A better family. His father was sponsoring her brother at the Ministry, Percy's career would only improve with more patronage, and, more important than anything else, Tom liked him. And Draco understood about Tom.

She couldn't imagine being married to a man who Tom didn't like. It would be unpleasant, to understate the matter. And you couldn't be married to someone and hide the truth about something as important as another soul in your body. The horcrux thing, that Tom was Voldemort –

 _I am not. I am what he ruined._

\- was probably better left unmentioned, but she couldn't hide his entire existence.

 _I should think not._

She was in the midst of a kiss about the excitement of the engagement, a kiss far nicer than the ones tainted with relief, when she heard footsteps rushing into the courtyard. She didn't stop. Whoever it was could hurry right along to do whatever important, responsible thing needed doing right now. There were Death Eaters to track down as they fled the school. A body to dispose of. So many things that could be keeping all the good and pure people of Hogwarts busy while she and Draco celebrated survival, celebrated the future, celebrated being young and alive and filled with blood that rushed and hearts that beat.

Whoever it was didn't hurry along.

"Ginny?" the voice was hesitant, a bit embarrassed, and most definitely belonged to her brother Percy. She sighed and turned to look at him. "If it's not too much trouble, they're asking for you in the Great Hall."

. . . . . . . . . .

 _ **A/N - Well, almost done. If there is anything you really want covered in the next few chapters, now is the time to ask. Thank you, all, for your support of this very odd little story.**_


	61. Chapter 61 - A Meeting

Someone had already removed the body. It was the first thing Ginny looked for. She hoped they burned it.

Professor McGonagall was smiling at her but the expression had a strained look. It pulled her mouth too tight, and made the papery skin of old age look like it might tear. "Miss Weasley," she said.

Ginny crossed her arms.

"We were worried," McGonagall went on. Her smile got no easier at the way Ginny met her eyes without flinching. It was hard to be intimidated by a teacher, even that one, on a day like this. Maybe next year when life had settled back down to grades and examination she'd tremble at the thought of Minerva McGonagall's displeasure. Not today.

"I went to find Draco," Ginny said somewhat baldly. She knew that wasn't what McGonagall meant, but if they wanted to know about the basilisk they could ask her directly.

 _And then you can lie._

 _Well, I can hardly tell her the truth._

"Perhaps we could do this in your office," Molly Weasley said. She wanted to hurry over to her daughter and smother her again, Ginny could see it in the way her hands moved toward her then stopped. "It would be quieter there."

"Fine," Ginny said. "Draco and I -."

"I don't think Mr. Malfoy needs to be there," Professor McGonagall said. The words pinched her mouth together. She didn't like him, or her, or any of Slytherins. Ambition was suspicious at best, most likely evil. Doing what had to be done made you untrustworthy and a cheater. Ginny was tired of it all and didn't look forward to sitting in an office with her parents and McGonagall, noble Gryffindors all, though not so noble they'd stepped in to keep her twin brothers from picking on her. No, they were noble when it came to the Muggles that fascinated her father, and noble when it came to House Elves and noble when it came to whatever other lost cause they'd discovered. They weren't at all noble if the object of that attention wore green, wanted to be more than another housewife struggling to feed too many children, didn't want to be the orphan boy sent back to a city destroyed by a war.

And they wanted to talk to her alone, without a friend beside her.

 _Not alone_ , Tom said. _We're never alone._

That was true enough.

 _Also, ask for Snape to be there. He's our Head of House._

"Professor Snape will be there, right?" Ginny asked. Confusion flashed across her mother's face, and then mirrored distaste on both hers and McGonagall's. "He is my Head of House, after all."

There wasn't much anyone could say against that and so they ended up squashed into Minerva McGonagall's office. Her parents sat on a small chaise meant for one person, McGonagall sat behind her desk, and Snape leaned up against a wall. He looked bored. Not even a glimmer of interest glinted in his eyes.

Her brothers had tried to troop in after them but Ginny shut the door in their faces and perched on the hard, wooden chair clearly meant for students summoned for conferences or scoldings. If she couldn't have Draco she wasn't going to put up with Ron and Fred and George. McGonagall cleared her throat and Ginny waited for the obvious questions.

"Miss Weasley," she began, then stopped and frowned before she began again. "I wish to begin by noting you have done the world a remarkable service today."

The urge to say, "You're welcome" almost overwhelmed her, but Ginny managed to control herself and kept a look she hoped managed to convey overwhelmed modesty.

"I am," McGonagall went on, "a bit flummoxed as to how you managed it, however."

"She's got the bravery of a lion," her mother said with a thrust to her jaw. "And no one's ever suggested she was lacking in her classes."

McGonagall nodded. "Your daughter is a most apt student," she said, "no doubt. But there is being a bright, clever girl and there is besting the darkest wizard the world has ever known."

 _Hardly the darkest_ , Tom said, though he was almost preening. _She's forgetting about the wizard who led United States Uprising. And the witch who could control ghosts down in South America. And also, the –_

 _Could you spare me the history lesson?_

 _Those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it,_ Tom said but his activity had made Snape's Mark writhe and she could see the professor shift his arms so his sleeves fell down over his hands. He coughed and, when McGonagall looked at him, he said dryly, "I suspect much of Miss Weasley's success today can be attributed to what is known as 'dumb luck'."

Molly Weasley narrowed her eyes and Snape's bored face transformed itself into the sneer students learned to dread. "You can hardly be unaware, Mrs. Weasley," he said, "that the magical prowess of your numerous offspring has decreased with each birth. Miss Weasley turns her work in on time, and her essays are the required length, but no one would ever call her an exceptional student in quite the same way William and Charles were." His sneer grew even more pronounced. "Even those execrable twins of yours are more creative in their magical talents."

"Severus," McGonagall said, perhaps trying to head off the confrontation they could all see brewing in Molly Weasley's eyes. "While it's true that perhaps Miss Weasley could have managed the spell-work, and the element of surprise worked in her favor, surely, how do you explain the Basilisk?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Panic," he said. "If I am being generous. And excessive belief in bedtime stories I suspect. Only a genuine idiot would summon a basilisk."

"It's the how of the summoning I am interested in," McGonagall said slowly. "How she knew there was one and how she spoke that language to get it to arrive." Her tone faltered a bit on _that language_.

Ginny opened her mouth to respond but Snape spoke before she could. "It's tedious, Minerva," he said, "but half of them can speak a little." He managed to sound disdainful and dismissive. Leaning a language associated with dark magic? A tiresome adolescent affectation. "It's been a bit of a thing in Slytherin the last few years."

"Parseltongue?" McGonagall asked.

He shrugged. "I prefer it to the previous trend of attempting to brew alcohol out of every plant they found." His mouth twisted. "Remember the mandrake incident?"

Minerva McGonagall's face said she did. "If I ask the students," she said. "They will confirm this?"

Snape looked displeased. "Are you suggesting I would lie, Minerva?" he asked. "To protect a _student_?"

The idea was ludicrous and McGonagall nodded. "Well," she said, "I'm going to have to ask you to nip that particular trend in the bud next year. I do not care to deal with the Howlers of parents upset their children are flirting in hisses."

"It's harmless," Snape said. "Just a language."

"It's the language of dark wizards," Arthur Weasley said. He sounded uncomfortable and apologetic and like he wanted nothing more than to leave this room but there it was. The prejudice against any magic more interesting than the spells you'd use to clean your shoes or cut the meat for your dinner. Ginny looked down at her hands. She didn't understand how a man could be fascinated by whatever bit of Muggle trash came his way while avoiding his real heritage.

 _Fools, all of them_ , was Tom's opinion.

She forced a smile onto her face as she looked at her parents. Tom wasn't wrong, but until she was safely out of that house she had to get along. "I won't study it anymore," she said. Her shudder wasn't wholly faked. She hated Tom's basilisk.

"Study is a bit of a grandiose term," Snape said, sneer firmly in place. "Let's not over-dramatize your time wasting, Miss Weasley."

She scowled and thrust her chin out. It wasn't hard to look sullen at his tone even though she knew he was covering for her, and doing it brilliantly. "No one minded earlier today," she said.

"We're lucky that thing didn't kill us all," McGonagall said. She had her feet back under her now, the anomaly explained, the school safe. Or mostly safe. As safe as Hogwarts ever was. "This summer I will have to bring in a team of Aurors to find it and dispose of it."

Ginny wasn't sad about that. "May I go?" she asked. She might as well get out while she could.

"Please," Snape said. He tapped his fingers against his thigh before adding, "We will discuss things more later, Miss Weasley."

She looked as abashed as she could, spared a quick hug for her parents because it would have looked bad if she didn't, and then she raced out and away. If she was lucky, she'd make it to the dungeons before her brothers found her.


	62. Chapter 62 - The Aftermath

Ginny didn't make it all the way to the safety of the Slytherin dungeons before a pair of arms grabbed her and pulled her into a hug so tight she let out an embarrassing squeak. She wiggled her way free and stared at her assailant.

Theodore Nott had bags under his eyes, bruises marring his pale skin, and his dark hair needed a brush. There was a tremor to his jaw she'd never seen there and hands kept reaching for his wand then stopping. She understood his urge to hold a weapon. Luna stood next to him, and watched Ginny with those wide, grey eyes. She just looked puzzled, a common enough expression on her face, but Ginny had never seen Theo look so relieved. "Draco said you did it," he said. It was half a question, a plea for reassurance.

"Potter helped," she said. She could afford to be gracious. Enough people had seen her kill that monster that sharing credit would make her look generous and humble. She didn't have to fake her shudder. "I thought he'd get us all but Potter grabbed his wand and that slowed everything down."

"Grabbed his wand?" Luna tilted her head to the side. "What an odd choice."

"Trust Potter to be afraid to just use a damn curse," Theo said. He blinked her eyes too rapidly and under that contemptuous dismissal Ginny could see he was about to cry.

She set a hand on his arm. "Hey," she said. "It's fine now." Her own eyes kept wanting to go back to the necklace Luna wore. Tom's interest in jewellery was incredibly ill-timed and she chalked it up to the stress of murdering yourself. There wasn't really a prescribed therapy for how to cope with that and if he wanted to fixate on Luna's weird little pendant with its circle and line and triangle, well, usually he wanted to kill people when he was upset. An interest in geometry was an improvement. She could handle that.

Before she could refocus on Theo, Pansy appeared. She let out a whoop when she saw Ginny, scooped her up and spun her around. "You did it, you crazy woman," she said after she set her down. "You always knew the weirdest things but -."

"Oh," Ginny said, suddenly reminded of Snape's excuse. "If anyone asks, we've all been learning bits of Parseltongue as a lark."

"The grammar is difficult," Luna said.

Ginny blinked at her. Luna's smile was unreadable and Ginny suddenly wondered if the daft girl really had been trying to learn Parseltongue. She wouldn't put it past her.

"The subjunctive," Theo said.

"Mmm," Luna agreed. "Turns out snakes spent rather a lot of time talking about conditions that don't currently exist."

"Mostly about sunnier days," Ginny said cautiously.

"Warm rocks that never were," Theo agreed. He touched her on the arm. "It's important?" he asked.

She nodded.

Pansy crossed her arms and considered. "It'll take me at least 30 minutes to get that spread around," she said. "Do we have that much time."

Ginny had no idea, and when she didn't answer, Pansy turned on one heel and strode off. One thing you could be sure of with Slytherin House: they closed ranks. If Snape claimed they were all learning a pointless magical language and it was important, by the end of the day half of them would have memorized enough hissing to exhaust any Auror who came asking.

What she wanted was to find Draco again and to let Narcissa Malfoy sweep things up with her power and her money and her disdainful sniffing. She wanted to finish her education and think about nothing more strenuous than what would be on her exams. She wanted to nap for a thousand years. She wanted to plan her wedding.

 _Please tell me you won't let your mother help_ , Tom said.

She ignored that but she could feel herself sagging. Maybe a nap, even if only for an hour, would be the thing. Luna set a hand on her shoulder and said, "We can run interference if you need it."

She did, and they did. Theo glared at anyone who looked their way on the rest of the trip to the dungeons and Luna sat with her back against the door of her room while she slept. At one point Ginny woke up and heard her roommates arguing that it was their room too and who did she think she was, just taking it over like that, but they went away and she sank back into welcome darkness.

When she opened her eyes again and ventured out into the common room, she froze. The whole room was covered in green and grey streamers and someone had set up a makeshift bar filled with bottles ranging from the best fire whiskey to something clear and probably deadly. A cheer when up when people saw she'd emerged. "Screw the boy who lived," someone called out. "Here's to the girl who killed the bastard for good!"

"McGonagall burned the body herself," Theo said with vicious satisfaction and Ginny let out a sigh of relief. He was gone.

 _I am not._

 _As you like to tell me, you're different._

A smug feeling of satisfaction wafted toward the front of her brain. _Glad you finally believe it, Ginevra._

"Where's Draco?" she asked.

Draco, it turned out, had been spirted away by his parents. Lucius Malfoy had fabricated an excuse that the wards were clearly lacking but any school that had let Lord Voldemort in the front door was a school with security problems. The utter cheek of that shocked Ginny. He'd been in the crowd of Death Eaters. He'd been one of the invaders, and now he was complaining the school had been too easy to invade? He'd probably get away with it, too. The rich really were different.

"His mother left a note," Pansy said, and passed it over.

 _Dearest Ginevra._

 _Draco has shared the good news with me. Owl me at your earliest convenience. Lucius and I are beyond thrilled._

 _Narcissa._

Pansy made no attempt to hide she was reading over Ginny's shoulder. "The good news?" she asked.

Ginny turned red the way only a ginger can and mumbled something that came out as, "Propo Dacosed."

It took Pansy a moment, then she shrieked. Pansy had an excellent set of lungs and impressive projection skills and the noise made everyone stop drinking and stare.

"You okay?" Blaise asked.

Pansy ignored him. "Thrilled," she said, plucking the note from Ginny's hand. "I'll say the old bag is thrilled. You're the hottest property since Harry Potter and she snagged you."

"Uh, I think that was Draco," Ginny said.

"Whatever," Pansy said. "Just remember who told everyone we've been learning to hiss when you're flying high at the Ministry."

"You'll be a bridesmaid, right?" Ginny asked cautiously.

That shriek was even louder.


	63. Chapter 63 - Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Tom settled back. If a soul fragment could be said to stretch out his legs and throw his arms over the backs of chairs, that was what he did. It was hard not to smile. Ginevra was peering at herself in the mirror and touching at her hair as if her nascent skills could somehow improve what Narcissa Malfoy's hairdresser had done. Fiery curls sat piled on her head with artful tendrils hanging down as if by accident. Tom snorted to himself at the idea of 'accident'. Those tendrils had taken the woman over 30 minutes to select and charm into place. The flowers tucked into the curls stood out a stark white against the red hair, and acted like a frame for the veil that fluttered down their back.

Ginevra made a beautiful bride.

He supposed that meant he was a beautiful bride, which was beyond funny. Well, he'd turned heads in his own body. Having a shell that was less than ideal would have grated on him so he was glad he'd fallen into the hands of a woman as lovely as he had. People liked to natter on about how beauty was only skin deep, but those people were always plain. He knew how many paths physical beauty could smooth. Draco Malfoy wouldn't have proposed to an ugly girl, slayer of Voldemort or not, and this road to respectability and power would come easier to a Malfoy.

Apparently, his other self had worked retail. The mind boggled. Well, he'd made mistakes, that was certainly true, but at least he'd left a failsafe in case anything went wrong. Tom would be more careful this time. Horcruxes had clearly been a mistake but the Hallows. The Hallows he could work with, and Ginny wouldn't object.

 _What wouldn't I object to?_ she asked.

He thought several lurid things involving Draco at her and they turned bright red in the mirror but she also bit at the inside of their cheek and permitted herself a small, nervous smile. _I suppose I wouldn't,_ she said.

Her attraction to Draco Malfoy was another unexpected bonus. Not that he'd loved Abraxas. The idea was ludicrous. But he'd certainly appreciate the man's thin, pale visage and, if seeing it mirrored in his grandson had taken a little getting used to, well, he planned to get very used to it over the next few decades. Longer if he could get all the Hallows.

When. _When_ he got all the Hallows.

They had one, after all, and rumors from Hogwarts suggested he knew who had at least one more. _Did you ever return Potter's owl?_ he asked.

 _Now?_ Ginny sounded annoyed at him. _It's our wedding day and you want to talk about Harry Potter?_

 _Poor boy's been a bit adrift since you stole his thunder,_ Tom said. _Doesn't mean he's not the other savior of the wizarding world. Doesn't mean we shouldn't cultivate him. And your brother's his best friend_.

She rolled her eyes at that and he had to agree. How a gem like his Ginevra had come from that family he had no idea. Percy was fine – boring and pompous, but fine – but the rest were Gryffindor to the core. He should find them all a windmill to tilt at and see if they took each other out in the process.

 _You always have an angle,_ Ginny said. She picked up her bouquet, squinted one last time at her makeup, and turned to make her way down to the bridal waiting room. _But we can dance with him at the reception and you can whisper whatever sweet nothings you want into his ear._

Narcissa had conceded that the bride's mother should be the one to do last minute fussing, and the bride's father should do the traditional walking down the aisle. Tom knew she was right – he doubted Narcissa Malfoy had even been wrong about a social nuance – but that didn't mean he enjoyed Molly Weasley slobbering all over him and reminiscing about her own wedding. Self-involved harpy. And the father. He was the definition of 'hen-pecked.' Tom could feel Ginny cringing away from her mother as the women tucked a 'lucky knut' not in her shoe but in her cleavage.

Could a woman get any more crass?

Maybe he could have Draco pick it out with his teeth later.

Ginny took her father's arm. "Nervous?" he asked with hearty cheer that had probably already seen at least one bolstering pint. The sort of swells filling the hall made him nervous. Tom would have had sympathy, but he'd grown up in a bloody orphanage and he'd learned to hold his own with the likes of the Malfoys by the time he was fourteen. Ginny's sad sack of a father was old. He had no excuse.

"No," Ginny said. Her eyes were on the doors that would lead out to the hall where the Ministry official waited to say the words that would make her a Malfoy. "Why would I be?"

Her father stammered a bit before coming out with, "Bit of a change is all, Gin, from our family to this."

Ginny turned her head slowly to look at him, and Tom let himself show just a little bit behind her eyes. "You haven't wanted me in _our family_ since I was Sorted into Slytherin," she said. His mouth gaped open, the fleshy lower lip pushed out as if waiting for a fishhook, and Ginny returned her focus to the doors and their future.

The wedding planner popped her head in. "Whenever you're ready, Miss Weasley," she said.

"No reason to wait," Ginny said.

The flower-girls had been pulled from a dozen families who'd lost people to Voldemort. Partially orphaned girls clutched baskets of rose petals and tripped their way down the aisle in dresses Narcissa had paid for. The collected wizards and witches ooo-ed and aww-ed at how adorable they were, and made wholly different sounds of appreciation for the bridesmaids.

Luna has refused to remove the radish earrings and even a highly paid hairdresser hadn't been able to talk her into anything other than loose hair. She would be unapologetically herself even at this event. Based on the inhalations, Tom suspected it had worked. People assumed she was flighty and unaware, but she knew she was a beautiful woman. She even enjoyed other people's appreciation of that. She just didn't need their approval, and most people had no idea what to do with that. He thought it would make her a brilliant lieutenant.

Pansy had hauled a tiara out of her family vault and walked on heels so high Tom knew she'd used balancing and stabilizing charms to keep herself upright. He almost pitied whatever man fell for her because she liked using every part of herself as a weapon. From her mind to her feet, she'd honed it all to edges that wanted to test themselves against anything foolish enough to resist her.

Though Pansy's edges were nothing like the ones he'd created with Ginevra. As she stepped into the room, bouquet in her hand, everyone rose and turned, eyes looking for an explanation or a weakness. How had she killed Voldemort? How had the poor blood traitor enchanted the son of so much wealth? Was she a tool? Could she be turned to support this scheme or that scheme?

Tom wanted to laugh. Anyone who thought he'd use them was going to get an unpleasant surprise.

They passed Severus Snape, sitting with Regulus Black, Evan Rosier and their daughter. The girl had a squint, poor thing, but there was a vicious set to her mouth Tom rather liked. He and Ginny nodded at Severus, who nodded back. He knew. Regulus knew. Not many people, and Tom planned to keep it that way. Those two, however, would be loyal unto death. Ginny had loosened the chains they'd found too restrictive and if those chains kept them bound to him, well, he planned to hold them with far more finesse than his dead self. Keep the minions grateful. Keep them pleased to be serving. Fear only worked for so long before the rabble would rise up and cut you down, but love, oh love. People would do terrible things for love, and count themselves lucky for the chance.

Ginny dragged their attention to Draco, waiting for them at the end of the aisle. His eyes drank in the sight of them in their white dress as though he could never get enough. Rich, handsome, and from a family with fingers in every pie in the Ministry.

Tom and Ginny handed their bouquet off to Pansy, who fussed with the train until it sat the way she wanted, afraid to be imperfect, then slid their hands into Draco's. He squeezed their hands and they smiled up into his grey eyes.

Yes, everything had worked out but was that not to be expected? They were better than everyone else. Of course, things went their way.

 ** _finis_**

. . . . . . . . . .

 _A/N - Much love to everyone who has read and supported this story along its journey, as well as to people coming along now that it is a done thing. A writer without readers is a lonely person talking to herself, and you make this a party. Thank you._


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